


The tempest

by PuckB



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, References to Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-24 23:25:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 45,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuckB/pseuds/PuckB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the ship transporting the king and his court sink near a mysterious island, the passengers find themselves scattered all over the coasts.<br/>Each one of them will make meetings that will change them, especially Prince Arthur when he meets Merlin, an inhabitant of the island and a sorcerer!<br/>Start a quest for survival, the resolution of conspiracies and the beginning of something almost no one expected...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe this fic is finally complete and posted. It took me way too long to write, and for someone like me - not used to write and not a native speaker - it was a really big challenge, but despite the stress, the complications, the deadlines etc, it was really interesting to write.  
> I couldn't just let that idea go. The Tempest is one of my favorite play by Shakespeare, and with Colin playing in it... It was a fusion that needed to happen!  
> First, let me direct you to my lovely artist's wonderful art [here!](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Paperlegends2013/works/949315)  
> I love it to bits, it's exactly how I pictured the scenes she depicted! Thank you again Enk for chosing my fic!  
> Now I'd like to thank a lot of people without who this fic wouldn't exist : First, my absolutely awesome betas Rockn, Scotscookie, Nny and especially Domnomnom who saved me at the very last minute! They all managed to correct my writing full of mistakes in a very short time and without their help this fic would be a terrible mess. So thank you so much, I am forever indebted to all of you!  
> And a big big thank you to all the lovely, lovely people in the Paperlegends chat. Going there was the best choice I ever made in all my short fandom life! ♥  
> Now I should probably let you all read! I hope you'll enjoy the story~

“Boatswain!”

“Here, Master! Here!” The boatswain called over the racket of the wind to the men on the deck.

“Good. Tell your crewmen to hold the ropes fast! This storm is going to be more powerful than we thought!”

The boatswain nodded and immediately turned to direct the other mariners. That simple movement took more efforts than usual because a strong gust of wind pushed him in the wrong direction as the huge waves made the boat rock back and forth dangerously.

They had been travelling for days with a clear sky and calm seas when the tempest had suddenly come upon them, dark, tumultuous clouds and wild waves that had descended upon the ship in just a few hours It wasn't a coincidence that they had travelled this way, the had taken this route because it was known for being safe. Still, the crew had to be well prepared for any situation, their passengers were too important to risk the shorter but more dangerous route.

 

Speaking of passengers, either the boatswain was hallucinating or three of them were standing on the deck when they had been expressly ordered to stay in their cabins. Again, the boatswain turned around and clambered back toward them, holding himself upright with an iron grip on the security rope that was attached all over the boat.

“Ah! Boatswain!” one of the man called. “Here you are. Tristan, isn't it?” He continued once the boatswain was close enough to hear him clearly. “Where's the master?”

“Go back to your cabins!” Tristan yelled, not even paying attention to the questions. “You'll interfere with the manoever of the vessel!”

“I will go where I want!” The man screamed back. “Do you know who I am? Show some respect!”

“Sir Agravaine, please, we should go back.” the third man pleaded but Agravaine dismissed him with a sneer.

“Where is the master? Why are we not out of this storm yet? Do your work!” The noble yelled, his face red with anger and effort.

 

It was getting harder to stand up and to speak. The noises of the waves exploding against the boat hull, the wind snapping at the sails that the mariners were fighting to control, all the bellowing of the men working to keep the ship afloat... It was deafening.

Tristan had been the boatswain on this ship for years now and yet he had never seen a storm like this one. It was like the sky and the sea both were angry at them specifically, as if they alone had been singled out. Never again he would agree to carry royalty.

 

“-- fools! Don't you know who you're carrying?” Agravaine kept screaming to anyone he thought would listen.

Tristan had to laugh then – or at least tried to, it was hard to open one's mouth at that point without swallowing sea water.

“None that I love more than myself! If your king, or prince, or yourself can commands the elements, I shall respect you, and you should do so now. But if you can't, you are but a bother. Go back to your cabins!”

And on those words, he turned away again and got back to the business of ordering about the mariners, leaving behind the very red-faced nobleman. Thankfully the two men who had accompanied him topside were dragging him back to his cabin.

 

It didn't take long after that for another huge wave to crash upon the deck of the ship so violently that it made a small hole, and for the one following it to make it bigger and allow the raging water to flood inside the boat.

Tristan's voice resonated over the racket, “We split! We split!” quickly followed by more terrified screams.

There was a loud “Crack” over the din of the storm, and then, everything was darkness.  


	2. PART 1

**Merlin**

Merlin screamed. He screamed at the sea as the remain of the ship were being carried away by the waves and all the bodies of the passengers were disappearing under the water. He screamed at the elements for destroying all those lives right in front of his eyes. He screamed his pain and his anger, and when he was done screaming, he ran and he ran, on the shores made of rocks that hurt his skin to the point of breaking it, but he couldn't care less about this pain, because at that moment, it was his heart that hurt the most.  
“Kilgharrah!” He yelled in the direction of the dark shape standing regally at the top of a cliff.  
The silhouette turned to face him, imposing as always in his long robes. His eyes burned gold, proof to Merlin that the sorcerer was the cause of the disaster.  
“You did this! You killed this people! Why?” He yelled.  
“Merlin.” Kilgharrah said coldly. “Calm yourself.”  
“Those people, they were innocent!” Merlin repeated in desperation. “And now you've slaughtered them!”

Merlin fell to his knees in front of Kilgharrah, shaking and sobbing. The Tempest had been so violent and so close to the coast he had been able to hear the cries of the passengers as they drowned. He had tried to reach them with his magic of course, to help them, save them, even just one... But he had been met by a barrier of power he couldn't break, and he had seen them sink as clearly as if he had been there with them.  
“I saw them...” He sobbed. “I saw them die! Please, tell me you didn't do that.” He knew there was little possibility that Kilgharrah wasn't involved, but still he wanted to believe that the man, his master, mentor, teacher, the one he had trusted and lived by since he was very young, wasn't so cruel.

Kilgharrah got down to Merlin's level and put a hand on his shoulder.  
“Merlin, listen to me carefully.”  
Merlin raised his head to look at Kilgharrah, blinking several time to clear the tears out of his eyes.  
“I assure that despite what you saw and its apparent violence, no one, not a innocent soul, died during this tempest.”  
“What?”  
“With my powers and the help of my spirit, I made sure that every single being who was on this ship survived completely unharmed.”  
Merlin blinked, his face blank with shock and confusion.  
“Now, let's go back to our home, I have many important things to tell you.” Kilgharrah concluded.

The cave they called home was wide and comfortable, situated right at the centre of the island. It was were Merlin had grown up. He didn't remember anything else, but he had read many books about the outside world, and often dreamed of houses, temples and palaces. As soon as he began to read, he learned everything he could about the life outside the island since he could read, about the humans and their ways of life. Even before he could read, he had spent hours just staring at the illustrations in the books, tracing the lines with his fingers and revelling in amazement such unique and beautiful beings really existed.  
And so, that day, for the first time in the years he had been here, a ship had come close to the island and he had been able to observe from afar the first human he had ever seen. Until, of course, the sky had opened over the boat and dumped torrents of rain, of raging wind and roaring thunder, and the scene had transformed into a carnage. It was expected that he was still shaken by it as he sat in an old handmade chair and hold tightly onto the cup of hot beverage Kilgharrah had given him.

“See, Merlin.” Kilgharrah started. “The time have finally come for me to reveal to you what I have kept secret for all these years. Your origin, and your destiny.”

Merlin's mouth opened in shock. Still focused on the recent events, he had expected Kilgharrah to talk about that more in details. Merlin was still angry and confused and wasn't ready to believe Kilgharrah's words yet. He had seen the ship sink with his own eyes, what else was he supposed to believe?  
“What?”

“Be silent, young warlock, and listen carefully, for here are the reason you have been brought here, here is what destiny planned for you in a close future... Let me start at the beginning.”

“On land, there is a kingdom that was once prosperous and powerful. Its king was respected and loved. This king had surrounded himself by wise people to help rule his kingdom, among them was his wife. She was a very beautiful woman but weak, and after years of marriage, failed to produce an heir. Desperate, the king called one of his advisor for help, the high priestess of the old religion, Nimueh. With her help, the queen became pregnant. However, you know the price of creating a life. For every life created another life must be taken, and it fell onto the queen to die for her son to live.  
In his grief, the King declared that it was Nimueh's fault that the queen had died, and went after her, intending to execute her. It was known that the priestess had many friends to help her. They were dangerous sorcerers, warlocks and witches who all followed her.  
Soon, the king became suspicious every person with magic in his entourage. I was close to him them, what you would call his court sorcerer. He used to come to me for advices, and in time of war I fought often alongside him. There was another man too, whose power where special and rare. He was close the king, closer even than I was. This man, Merlin, was called Balinor, and he was your father.”

Merlin gasped in surprise at the mention of his father. The man was a total mystery to Merlin since Kilgharrah had always refused to talk about him. To learn his name was something Merlin had been hoping for for years. He wanted to ask for more informations but it was evident that Kilgharrah wasn't done, and Merlin knew that he didn't like being interrupted. So despite his excitation he kept his mouth shut and waited.

“When the king decided to pursue every person with magic in the kingdom, Balinor ran away. I was captured and held in the cave under the castle. I thought I would die there, but a few years later, a friend of both mine and Balinor's came to me with a message from him. Balinor had a son, a child who seemed to possess extraordinary abilities, more powerful than any magic user ever known. He needed to be kept safe and to be taught or his magic could become out of control and dangerous. I was the only one who had the power and knowledge to assume this position. And I wasn't going to refuse to help my friend.  
My escape was planned carefully, and before you were two years hold, you were bought to Camelot in secret and soon after we were on a small boat with books as only possession, directing ourselves toward an island that have been know to host great magical power. Unfortunately for us, the island was already inhabited by the witch Morgause, who had turned evil and lost her humanity when her entire village had been burned by the king's men. Here, she was planning her revenge with a child named Mordred. I destroyed her but couldn't touch the boy.  
Mordred, as a baby, was put in an eternal sleep, bewitched to wake only when his destiny would call. He did so, you know, a few years ago.  
From there, I suppose that you remember everything. And now you know where you come from.”

Merlin swallowed, taking in everything that Kilgharrah had just told him. It sounded like a legend, a story. Often, as a child, he imagined that his father or his mother had been someone important and powerful, and that he was forced to hide because they were betrayed by their allies. He never imagined how close those dreams were to the truth. He had so many questions to ask, his mind was boiling. He wanted to speak, but couldn't find the words.

“If you wonder, Merlin, why they left us in peace here after my escape, the answer is they didn't. They searched for me countless time over the year, but each time they came close to the island, my spirits pushed them away. Only today, I have allowed humans to step on this place, and soon they will know who lives and holds the power here.  
Now, listen carefully Merlin. I won't repeat myself. Out of all the people on that boat, there is one who is more important than the others. In the following days, all truth will be revealed and destinies will be acted upon. Be ready.” Kilgharrah gestured at the now half-full cup that Merlin was still holding. “Finish this potion, it should help you fall asleep. You need to get some rest. In your dreams, all those revelations will be easier to understand.”

Merlin wanted to reply that he wasn't tired and made to ask the questions that kept popping in his mind, but before he could open his mouth, his arms were crossing on the table in front of him and he was resting his head in them. The contours of his vision became blurry, and the last thing he saw before falling asleep was Kilgharrah's back, leaving the cave.

 

 

**Arthur.**

Arthur opened his eyes and closed them immediately as the sunlight violently hit them. Everything hurt. His throat, his nose, his whole body was aching and he still felt like his lungs were full of water. He had been lying here, on this beach, for what felt like hours. He didn't knew was where that beach was, and since he'd been lying here for a while and no one had found him yet, he was quite worried that this place was deserted. Which was why he needed to get up soon.  
It took all his will to finally open his eyes and move his body, but after a moment he was standing in the middle of a very large beach, with behind him what looked like a tropical forest and in front of him, a very calm and very blue sea. There was no sign of the ship, no remains except one right next to him. He probably grabbed it just before the ship sank and it was very possible that it saved his life.

 

 

 

Arthur removed his soaked clothes and laid them on the warm send to dry them. Then, he took a quick bath to get rid of the sand and clear his mind. His head was full of questions, so many that it hurts – or maybe it was the sun, that seemed very bright for right after a tempest, so Arthur guessed more time had passed than he first thought. He wasn't very hungry, so it couldn't have been days, which was reassuring. However, he was probably going to collapse if he didn't eat anything soon. Eating, and getting some rest. That sounded like a good plan. He needed to be calm and rested before thinking of what he was going to do next. And there was also the risk that this place was habited by hostile people or creatures, and he couldn't risk being too weak to defend himself.

That was when he noticed the bright flicker in the sand. He walked toward it wearily, and let out a small cry of surprise when he saw his sword, dirty but not broken and the comfortable weight of the weapon in his hand reassured him greatly. Well, at least he had that! he might actually survive!  
He couldn't help but laugh. It was a bit ironic after all, he had a sword, which would help him fight any danger that could come to him and hunt so that he didn't starve, but if he couldn't find a way to get back to Camelot it would all be useless.  
On this thought, he dressed, and with his hold tight on his sword, started walking toward the forest.

He drew his sword in front of him as he entered the forest. The atmosphere changed immediately. It was darker, colder, and nothing like the forests around Camelot. It was the trees that convinced him that he was on an island. Those kind of tree, taller than any he had ever seen before, were reputed to be only found on the inhabited island of the west sea of Albion. Arthur would never have guessed that those boring classes he had been forced to take when he was younger about geography and plants would be put to use one day. He congratulated his past self for being a studious child. He put his sword back in his belt, not expecting to be ambushed by bandits anymore, and continued on his way with the idea of finding food and a cave to rest for the night.

Walking slowly, Arthur took the time to observe the forest in details. The trees were very impressive, but there were all kind of plants that caught his eyes. There were bright coloured flowers he had never seen before, fruits that probably weren't digestible, and a lot of plants that looked like they had teeth. He made sure not to walk to close to those ones.  
The air was perfumed with the smells of the nature around him, and a hint of the sea that was still close. It was fresh, but not cold, and the sunlight piercing the large leaves of the trees drew patterns everywhere. It made the place look a bit surreal.  
There were birds and other animals Arthur heard but didn't see, a soft wind in the branches, the distant murmur of the waves.

The first time he heard the song, he jumped in surprise instinctively grabbing his sword and holding it out. He wasn't immediately certain that he'd heard clearly. It had been a murmur, it could be just the wind, or some kind of bird, but then, it started again. The voice came from nowhere, and was so distant Arthur had to stay concentrated on it to be sure it was really here. He should be scared – and he was, a bit – but mostly, he felt intrigued.  
He knew he should follow the voice. As soon as he had been sure it was real, he knew it was magic. A spirit of some sort, probably. Why the island was deserted. But the tingle on his skin told him that there was no use resisting this urge. Whatever it was, it called to him, and soon he couldn't think of anything more important than finding the source of the music.

By the time Arthur found the clearing, night had fallen. The clearing was large, covered in soft, green grass, and there was a large tree that should protect him if it happened to rain. And of course, it was empty. Arthur was sure the voice had come from here. He walked toward the clearing, the sound becoming louder with each step, but as soon as he entered it, it disappeared. He knew he should worry, but he was so tired he couldn't find the strength to do it. He had been walking for several hours, and before that, he had been in a tempest. His entire body ached even more than before – which he didn't believe possible then. He let himself fall under the tree, closed his eyes in relief and let out a long sigh.

It took all of Arthur's strength to get up and find wood and rock to make a fire. He had picked some fruits on his way and was starting a fire to warm himself up, trying to keep it small as not to alert the whole island of his presence. He was cutting the fruits in pieces when he heard a tapping sound.  
Slowly, he put his hand on his sword and looked around him cautiously. It didn't take long before he could recognize the sound as footsteps – very human footsteps. And they were coming closer. He tightened his grip on his sword. Arthur stood up and the footsteps stopped behind him. He took a deep breath and turned around

**Morgana.**

Morgana opened her eyes with precaution, readying herself to be blinded by the sun she felt on her skin. She was surprised to find that she was enveloped in a shadow. She was lying on the ground, her head resting on a cushion made of large leaves, her arms resting on her chest, fingers linked together. Still a little dizzy, she didn't react immediately when she felt a wet clothes brushing her forehead and a warm hand resting on her head. She blinked twice.  
“What...”  
Instantly, the hand flinched away. Morgana tried to sit up but she felt weak, and her head was pounding. But that didn't stop her from recognizing the voice that mumbled.  
“My lady! I'm sorry! Are you alright? Here, let me help you.”  
And then, there was an arm around her waist and an hand on her shoulder and she was sitting up.  
“Thank you, Gwen.” She smiled.  
Gwen smiled back. Morgana saw her making sure that she could stay up before turning around and grabbing something behind her.  
“My lady, you should eat. I found some fruits that are comestible. Or, they didn't made me sick. Yet.”  
Morgana chuckled and thanked Gwen before taking the fruit. It looked like a giant purple apple and smelled delicious. She took a bite.  
Her head, despite still hurting, was full of questions. Where were they, what happened... But before anything, she had to eat. She didn't know how long she had been unconscious, but if Gwen had the time to go searching for food, then it must have been for a while.

It's only when she had finished the food – some strange, colourful fruits - that Gwen had carefully picked that she noticed that she was only wearing her undergarments. She eyed Gwen wearily before noticing her clothes suspended to the branch of a near by tree, drying in the sunlight. Morgana couldn't help but chuckle. Sweet Gwen, even after surviving a wrecking, she was still taking her job seriously. Morgana found it adorable.

Before asking anything, Morgana took the time to observe her surrounding. They were at the edge of a forest, in front of a small beach stuck between two huge rocky cliffs. The sea was blue and calm and the sky empty of any clouds. The air was warm and there was a soft wind that made her shiver a bit. After eating, she felt a lot better, the rumbling sound that hadn't left her head since she woke up finally disappearing. She turned to Gwen.  
“Where are we?” She asked, trying not to be too pressing.  
Gwen's eyes widened and she shook her head.  
“I don't know.” She sighed.  
“What happened?”  
“I don't know that either. Well, not everything.”  
She looked worried, her voice weak, hesitant. Morgana put a reassuring hand on Gwen's.  
“Take your time.” She said softly. “Tell me everything you know.”

It turned out Gwen knew more than she realized. At first, she woke up on the sand and panicked, but after walking for several minutes, she saw Morgana and ran to her. After making sure Morgana was still breathing and not hurt anywhere, she had dragged her to rest under the shadow of the closest tree, had taken her soaked clothes off and put them to dry, And once Gwen was sure Morgana was comfortably installed, she had wandered to see if there was anything to eat nearby. She hadn't dared to leave Morgana alone for too long, which was why she only had a few fruits. Morgana assured her that she had done fine and had acted exemplary in such an extreme situation.  
“So,” Morgana said after a moment. “You haven't seen anyone else then.”  
Gwen nodded. “But that doesn't mean no one survived! After all, we did, and without any harm!”  
Morgana smiled shyly. The tempest had been terrible. It was a miracle they were still alive.

Possibly, not everyone could have survived, and even if they did, it wasn't certain they had ended up on the same island. Maybe... Maybe Uther hadn't survived. It was very possible; after all, the man was old and such violence couldn't be good for his health, and he didn't have the strength to swim for very long.  
Morgana looked at the horizon, hopeful. Then, her thoughts went to Arthur. If she wanted anyone else to have survived, it was him. But she couldn't express how glad she was that it was Gwen who had found her. In any situation, she couldn't expect better company. Gwen might be her maid, but in the long years she had been at Morgana's service, Morgana had started to consider her as a friend. She felt happy that Gwen was here with her, which was really selfish. Of course, she would have preferred to have Gwen safe in Camelot, but having her here was still better than if she had woken up alone and had wandered around with the idea that Gwen had died in the tempest.

“So, what do we do?” Morgana asked. Gwen looked at her with wide eyes.  
“Oh I- I don't know my lady, what do you suggest?” She stammered.  
Morgana laughed out loud then.  
“Gwen, we just survived a tempest together, and now we're lost on an island with the very high possibility of not surviving; we might as well stop acting like mistress and servant. Call me Morgana, please.”  
At her surprise, Gwen blushed. She looked away from Morgana, and her voice was almost a whisper when she spoke again.  
“Yes, fine, my l-- Morgana.”  
Morgana smiled brightly.  
“Now, what do you think about finding somewhere to rest before it gets too dark?” Morgana proposed. Gwen nodded. “And maybe, if we're lucky, we will meet the inhabitants of the island, or another survivor of the tempest.”  
And on those words, they packed their few belongings – fruits and clothes – and stepped inside the forest.

 

 

**Arthur.**

Arthur blinked twice, three times. Nothing changed. Surely this was a joke. The man he was facing looked older than even Gaius, the Court Physician. This man wasn't just old, he was ancient. There were so many wrinkles on his face it was a miracle he could open his eyes. However, Arthur noticed that despite looking so old, he didn't look weak. He was standing straight, holding a long staff but not resting on it. And his eyes, they were shining in the moonlight, fixing Arthur with a strange intensity.

  
“Who are you?” Arthur asked after a long, tense silence.  
The old man smiled. That simple movement instantly made him look menacing. Arthur held tightly onto his sword, ready to defend himself.  
“I could return the question young man.” The old man took a step forward.  
“I didn't know this island was inhabited.” Arthur said instead of replying. He couldn't shake off this feeling that the man was not to be trusted.  
“You know now that it is, and you are on my property.”

Arthur took a deep breath before replying. This was starting to annoy him. He wanted to eat and sleep, and this man was being nothing but a pain in the arse. Really, was that how people in this part of the world reacted to lost travellers? The most natural thing to do in such a situation would be to offer help, wouldn't it?  
“I'm sorry.” He said calmly. “I'll leave now and find somewhere else to spend the night. If you would excuse me...”  
“No.” The man cut him. Arthur blinked. “You do not understand, young man.” He laughed. “The whole island is mine. There is nowhere but the sea where you are not under my authority.”

  
Arthur could feel himself starting to get angry. If not for the years of tutoring on diplomacy and how to be polite in any situation, he would already have his sword at the man's neck. Instead, he just stared, but he couldn't stop his hand that was holding his sword from twitching.  
“Then I must ask for your hospitality until I find a way to leave.” Arthur said between his teeth. From the old man's smile, it was obvious that it wasn't going to be that easy.  
The man stayed silent and Arthur felt himself boiling with impatience. Suddenly, there was a change in the wind and that's when Arthur noticed it: the top of the man's wooden staff was glowing.

 _Magic._ Arthur thought and immediately said.  
“Listen, I wish you no harm, but...” And was again cut off by the man whose smile was now wide and full of teeth.  
“Sure!” He replied. “And that’s why you’re gripping your sword so tightly.”  
Arthur glanced at his hands and saw that his knuckles were white. He winced.  
“Let me warn you, boy.” The man – no, the sorcerer – continued. “I could beat you using only this stick. Do not provoke me.”  
It was Arthur's time to laugh then. Really? Sorcerer or not, Arthur was the best knight in Camelot, if not in all of Albion, and he had defeated his fair share of sorcerers. This one wouldn't be an exception to the rule.  
“If I am not mistaken, you are the one provoking me, _sorcerer._ ” He insisted on the last word, letting the R roll on his tongue. And on those words, he raised his sword in front of him, attempting to look menacing. At the same time, the sorcerer smirked and raised his staff, the glow getting brighter.

Arthur felt his sword getting heavy in his hands. At first, he thought it was the exhaustion, but he had fought in worse condition than this, and his muscles weren't aching that much. When in less than a minute the sword weighed twice as much as it should, Arthur understood that it was the sorcerer's power in action. Arthur gasped under the growing weight of the blade, holding onto it with all his strength while staring at the sorcerer right in the eyes.  
Soon, the tip of the blade was touching the ground, and after another minute, the whole sword was on the ground and Arthur was trying his best to lift it, but it was just too heavy. After a last useless try, he took a step back and growled at the man.  
“What do you want?”  
“I know who you are, Prince Arthur of Camelot,” the sorcerer replied. Arthur's eyes widened. How was that even possible?  
“Then you must also know that the ship I was on sank and that I have nothing to give you now.” Arthur said, voice still low and hoarse with effort.  
“Oh, you have more to give me than you could ever imagine!” The man laughed. “What I want for now is easy. You will follow me to my home and once there, you will do what I ask of you.”  
This was already a lost battle, Arthur knew, so he didn't say anything, simply nodded.  
“Now follow me.”

As Arthur got down to take his sword, he felt a gust of wind on his skin that made him shiver. There was something in the air again, and he got the same feeling of rightness than when he had heard the song that lead him to this clearing in the first place. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword and immediately felt it. It was as if there was already an hand on it, invisible and cold and distant, but very real and it made Arthur draw back his hand like it had been burned. He glanced at the sorcerer but his back was turned and he was already walking away. When he looked back at his sword it was floating. Arthur gaped.  
The sword was now floating mid air, as if someone was holding it, except Arthur couldn't see anyone. The air around the blade was heavy, and it smelled of the sea despite it being quite far now. The weapon started moving, going in the sorcerer's direction. Arthur stood still for a minute, trying to process what the heck was happening, before he blinked twice, shook his head and decided that whatever was going on, he would see once he'd got some rest – if the sorcerer let him. Maybe in the daylight, everything would be clearer. He doubted it, but he could still hope!

 

 

**Gwaine.**

Gwaine woke up with the worse hangover he ever had. It was so terrible that it took him a while to realize that it wasn't a hangover but the result of having survived a tempest. The memory struck him like a tonne of bricks and he opened his eyes abruptly, now wide awake.  
He had survived that hell of a tempest. He didn't know how, but he did! For a short moment, he thought of dancing with joy, but when he tried to move, a banging sound echoed in his head and he closed his eyes. This was no fun; it was exactly like a hangover but without having spent a great night out.

  
It was the uncomfortable feeling of the rock under him and the strange smell that he couldn't quite place that finally made him move. He cracked all his knuckles and stretched his muscles before standing up and looking around. Around him, there were only rocks and a bit of sand, and in front of him, the sea. Behind him, he could catch sight of trees. But the most interesting thing was the barrels he could see at his right. There were three, and one was broken and spilling its contents into the sea. That was where the strange smell came from. It didn't take long for Gwaine to realize what it was, from the smell to the red colour of the liquid. Of course. He smiled.  
“Wine!” He said out loud. Exactly what he needed to get over this fake hangover. Real alcohol!

Gwaine pushed the broken barrel away and managed to take the two other out of the water. Thankfully, no water had got inside, so Gwaine figured the wine should be fine. This would definitely help him to accept the fact that he had apparently survived a tempest and was now lost on an unknown place that was probably a desert island far from any land and where no ship passed by, knowing his luck. Or if it was inhabited, it was probably by a bunch of angry cannibals or something of the kind. Gwaine prided himself on being an optimist and he was deciding which was the most optimistic between meeting no one and meeting angry cannibals as he opened a barrel. The delicious bitter smell hit his nostrils and he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes in pleasure.

Other people would have sorted their priorities differently. First, they'd have searched for shelter, or maybe food, or called for help. They'd have taken off their soaked clothes and they'd have made sure they weren't hurt. Gwaine, however, always had two priorities in life and those weren't going to change when he was lost on a mysterious island. The first priority was sex, the second was alcohol. Seeing how he was alone at this moment, alcohol had taken the first place.

He sat on the cold rock and took a flask?out of one of his pockets. He made sure it was empty of any salted water before filling it with wine and taking a sip. As expected, it was delicious. This wine had been intended for the King after all.  
Oh.  
The King! How could he have forgotten! He hasn't been alone on that ship. There were the King, and some other noblemen, and there was the Lady Morgana )who still hadn't succumbed to Gwaine's attempt at seducing her) and worse, there were Arthur and the knights. He couldn't stay here drinking wine when any of his friends might have survived and could need help! Or at least he hoped that they’d survived.

Suddenly, the vision of a world without the prince and the knights crossed his mind and he swallowed hard. But that was silly, if he had managed to survive, surely they managed it too! He stared longingly at his flask. Gwaine wasn't used to feeling so bad and confused. It had happened to him a few times and he had immediately found it very annoying. It was the main reason he had abandoned the path his father had decided for him and had become a jester. Playing the fool wasn't so far from actually being a fool. He didn't have any responsibilities and everyone liked him. If he sometimes joined the knights in their training and proved himself to be quite talented with a sword, it was also part of the fun.  
If Arthur kept asking him to become a knight, if he felt more at home with them than at any other place, and if he truly enjoyed fighting and wished he could always carry a sword, that was his problem. If he cared about half the people that were in that ship when it sank and that the idea of them dead hurt a lot more than it was supposed to, that was also his problem.

Gwaine drank two flask before finally deciding to move. He couldn't stay here and brood; that wasn't worthy of a fool. He was going to walk and search for his friends. He closed the barrel of wine – not before filling his flange one last time for the journey – and stared at the horizon. His mind was blurry because of the alcohol and moving seemed like a terrible idea. Moreover, he had no idea where to start looking.  
He was ready to open the barrel again when the first thunderbolt echoed over the sea. Gwaine jumped in surprise and food himself standing. He blinked at the dark clouds forming over him. They seemed to be localised right above him, and from their colour, they were going to explode soon and he was going to be cold and soaked again. He survived a sinking and now he was going to die of a cold!

It was that final thought, and the goal to find his friends that made him start walking toward the forest. It wasn't as close as the sea as it looked from far, and he was going to have to run if he wanted to find shelter from the rain. The air was fresh, and Gwaine couldn't help but shiver each time a gust of wind brushed him. The movement helped the alcohol to leave his body, and he was already feeling more clearheaded than ten minutes before, but he had a feeling, something twisting in his guts, that told him to keep moving and most importantly, to stay on his guard because things weren't going to be as simple as he'd like.

 

 

**Uther.**

It was with no surprise that Uther woke up with a headache. What was a surprise, however, was that he woke up at all. He had expected to be dead. Or maybe he was and this was his own personal hell. But the warm sunlight on his skin, the rare caress of the wind, the salty sea air; all that seemed very real. He took a deep breath, eyes still closed, and tried to calm the banging in his head and to remember what exactly had happened.  
Agravaine's voice echoed as if coming through a fog, but Uther recognized it immediately and swore under his breath. Of course, if he had to be with someone it would be that moron Agravaine. Uther opened his eyes and sat up, to find himself facing his brother-in-law staring at him with wide eyes.  
“Agravaine.” Uther mumbled, and Agravaine's face lit up.  
“Sire! You're awake!” He said enthusiastically. Uther frowned.  
“Of course I am.” He put a hand on his aching head to see if he was hurt anywhere. His back hurt too, apparently from sleeping on a root. He looked around him. They were in a forest. His coat had been taken off of him to dry, which surprised Uther because it was not like Agravaine to be caring, but then he noticed the knights.

Sitting next to each other, in the shadow of a huge tree were two of the knights, not in armour as they usually were, but still with their swords on their belts, talking to each other and glancing from time to time at the king and his counsellor.  
When they noticed that Uther was awake, one of them stood up and walked toward him.

  
“Sire,” the knight said respectfully.  
Uther stayed silent and observed the knight for a minute before replying. He had seen this man, as well as his comrade, several times in Camelot, mostly with his son. He vaguely remembered seeing them on the boat. They were Arthur's knights, or so everyone called them. But it was true, they had trained and fought only with Arthur and under his orders. Uther had knighted most of them, but otherwise he didn't know them at all. And in a state of survival like this, he didn't felt like he could trust their loyalty to him. If he couldn't trust his own brother-in-law he wasn't going to trust some unknown knights that spoke of his son's name with more fervour than the name of their king.  
Uther sighed. Of course he trusted Arthur implicitly and would never doubt of his loyalty, but he really was the only one. Anyone else could be a thief, a traitor, or worse, a sorcerer.

“What is your name?” Uther asked the knight.  
“Lancelot,” the man replied. “And this is Sir Percival.”  
Those names didn't remind Uther of anything and he sighed again. Very well. At least he wasn't alone with Agravaine, and that was definitely a relief.  
The knight opened his mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by Agravaine, sweating and smiling.  
“My lord! I found some fruits that seem harmless!” And he opened his arms to reveal several red, pear shaped fruits that smelled absolutely horrendous. Uther made a disgusted face.  
“Leave them there,” he ordered, shaking his hand nowhere in particular. “I believe Sir Lancelot and Sir Percival will be more suited at the job of finding food than us.” He gave a look at Lancelot who nodded before turning away and walking toward the other knight.  
Uther put his head in his hands and started massaging his forehead. They had to get out of here and quick. Camelot couldn't stand long without a king.

“Our goal is to get back to Camelot as soon as possible.” Uther repeated for at least the fifth time as they all made their way in the forest.  
“Of course! I believe it shouldn't be long before we find an inhabitant of the island who will certainly give us a ship! They must have heard of Camelot and her glory even in such foreign lands!” Agravaine replied enthusiastically. It was the one thing that annoyed Uther the most. That man always seemed happy, no matter how grave the matter was. He always had a smile on his lips that made Uther want to hit him.  
“Surely, this tempest was a sign!” Agravaine continued. “Or we wouldn't have survived unharmed. It must have been created by the gods to test us!”  
Uther didn't even glanced at him. God, Agravaine was stupid. It was no surprise his barony was close to ruin. If he hadn't been Ygraine's brother, Uther would have exiled him a long time ago – he didn't care that stupidity wasn't a good excuse for an exile, he could always find a decent lie; everyone would be happy to get rid of Agravaine, so no one would complain. He was relishing on the thought when Percival's voice broke Agravaine's monologue.  
“We can see the sea, Sire.” The knight said. He and his comrade were walking ahead of Uther and Agravaine.  
“Oh. We should continue on that way then.”  
“Very well, Sire.” Percival replied and turned around. Uther noticed him whispering to Lancelot. He looked discretely at Agravaine who had resumed with his monologue then back at the knights. He had this feeling, a twisting in his guts, that told him that someone was plotting against him and that he'd have to be careful. No one could be trusted these days, Uther told himself. They were all after his power, his wealth. Or they were sorcerers. And on a strange island like this one, he wouldn't be surprised if the inhabitants were practitioners of magic.

 

 

**Merlin.**

Merlin hid as soon as he heard footsteps coming closer to the cave. He would recognize Kilgharrah's footsteps anywhere, after all they were the only footsteps he ever heard, but this time there was something different and he got the feeling that he wouldn't be safe for him to see or to be seen.  
His magic often reacted like that to the unknown, when there was still unknown for him on the island. When he was younger and discovered new animals and plants every day, new places, new spirits, his magic often tingled and it didn't take him long to realize that it was a warning.

  
He hadn't expected that feeling to appear this suddenly after years of being quiet, but his reaction had been instinctive.  
He didn't know what he expected, but it certainly wasn't the man he found himself staring at. As soon as he entered his vision, Merlin's heart stopped. He didn't know if it was because he was the first human Merlin was seeing that wasn't Kilgharrah, but the man glowed. He was following Kilgharrah carefully, his eyes looking at the ground, obviously exhausted, but even like that Merlin found him... Impressive. Beautiful. His golden hair shined under the sunlight and Merlin wondered if it wasn’t really made of gold.

He got lost in his thoughts, his eyes still on the man. His head was full of questions. Who was that man? Why was he following Kilgharrah? Was it linked with the tempest that happened earlier? Why had his magic told him to hide?  
There was obviously something happening, and Kilgharrah as usual had been talking in riddles and not letting Merlin know anything. Well, Merlin was going to take the matter in his own hands!

Of course, just as Merlin started getting out of his hiding place, he felt Kilgharrah's gaze on him, stopping him in his tracks. He swallowed and moved back out of sight. The man seemed to notice the change in the atmosphere and glanced around him but Kilgharrah kept walking so he was forced to follow him, leaving Merlin behind. It only intrigued Merlin more, and he decided that he definitely wasn't going to stop there. Something was happening, and he needed to know what.

 

 

**Gwen.**

Gwen couldn't help but think that even in such a situation, she couldn't help some habits that came from years of working for Morgana. Not calling her “My Lady” was the hardest, but simply taking care of herself before taking care of Morgana wasn't something she was used to. Following Morgana and doing what she told her to do were more natural for her, so that's exactly what she did as they walked in the forest. Or at least, it was until Morgana stopped, turned to look at her, eyebrow raised, and told her that she could walk at her side and not behind her. Gwen had blushed, but Morgana said “Please?” with her sweetest voice and really, how could she resist that?  
Gwen knew, of course, that she wasn't just Morgana's maid. They'd known each other for too long for that. But in the castle, she had little time to act as if she was anything else. She wished she could be less awkward. After all, this was her chance to really be Morgana’s friend. And a friend was what they both needed the most at this moment.

They didn't know if anyone else had survived, or if anyone lived on the island. If they couldn't find a way to leave... Gwen preferred not to think about that. First, they needed to find someone. With chance, he'd be Arthur – sorry, Prince Arthur – or the king. If either of them were dead, worse, if both of them were dead, Morgana would be queen!  
Gwen choked. Queen Morgana! God, how weird would that be. Not that Morgana would be a bad queen, she would be wonderful, but Gwen didn't wish for anyone's death.

They had been silent for a while, tired by the walking and both lost in their thoughts, which is why it was such a surprise when they noticed how thicker and darker the forest got. Gwen stopped, immediately followed by Morgana. They exchanged a knowing look.  
“We should find a place to rest.” Morgana said. Gwen nodded.  
“Somewhere not so... Gloomy, would be nice.” Gwen added, smiling sheepishly.  
Morgana laughed and the atmosphere immediately became lighter. “Oh Gwen, don't tell me you're afraid of the dark!”  
“In an unknown forest in an unknown island, I might be!” She pouted, and Morgana laughed some more.  
“Fine, fine, we'll try to find a place where we can see the moon. I don't like this place either anyway. It's beautiful, but as you said, we don't know what kind of danger could be hiding in the darkness, and I'd like to stay alive a little bit longer,” Morgana said as they started walking again.

Of course, things couldn't go smoothly, and they had to stop walking again five minutes later as the trees parted, offering them three different paths. They stood still, both sighing. It had been easy, following the most obvious path, until then: where there were fallen trees, high bushes, brambles and such, they wouldn't go. Obviously, if there was any other human on the island, it would also be the way they'd take so it was where they had the more chances of meeting them. But now, they had a choice to make.  
“Which way do we go?” Gwen asked with a small, tired voice. She just wanted to sleep and to never wake up until she was back in Camelot, safe.  
Morgana didn't reply. Her eyes were wide, glancing in every direction. She sighed again and put a hand on Gwen's arm. Gwen shivered under the sudden touch, but the warmth of Morgana's hand on her skin was reassuring and she relaxed a little.  
“Why don't you choose Gwen?” She said softly. “You’ve always had good instincts.”  
“W-what?” Gwen stammered, stepping away from Morgana in surprise. “Oh no! It's... It's just chance anyway.” She paused, thinking. “It's not... Not a quest or anything, we don't have a choice to make, right? We just have to go where our feet take us.”  
Morgana smirked again. Gwen tilted her head in confusion. She knew that smirk – It was her “I know something you don't” smirk - but it was rarely directed to her. And now that it was, she couldn't help but blush.  
“Then...” Morgana spoke, voice even softer than before. She took one step toward Gwen, entering her personal space without hesitation, and took her hands in hers, squeezing them gently. “Where do you feet take you Gwen?”

When she was a little kid, before her mother died, Gwen and her family lived in a tiny village several miles away from Camelot, surrounded by a huge forest. Her father already worked as a blacksmith as many knights went through the forest every day and stopped by the village to get their weapons looked after before going on their quests. The forest there was nothing like the forest on the island of course, but it didn't stop her from often getting lost. It was mostly her big brother's fault of course – Elyan found it very fun to scare her to death at the time – but he always came back for her after a while. Except that at some point, she got tired of waiting for him, and decided that this time, she was going to get back on her own, like a grown up!  
The first time, she got even more lost, but after several times, she finally found a way, and she never got lost again.  
She hadn't told Morgana this story. She had been six, and her mother had died only a year later and they had moved to Camelot. She never went back to that forest, never used her skills again. She was just a little girl at the time anyway, and later she heard of the complexity of the knights' ways to find their path and felt ridiculous compared to them. Only now, on a mysterious island in a mysterious forest, she had to search in her mind the memory of her younger self and the forest of her childhood.

Gwen had told Morgana to please, be silent, and had closed her eyes. Concentrating wasn't easy when she was this tired, but she could do it. Feel the wind, where it's stronger it's probably colder, hear the birds, the animals as with them there would be water. Feel the humidity in the air, find the reassuring smell that would tell her where she was – it used to be the smell of iron, of fire, and she'd give anything to smell it right at this moment. But in this forest, the sounds were confusing, the smells drowned by the one of the sea, and her instinct screamed at her to just get out of the island.  
She had planned, at first, to just walk into the first path in front of her. It was just chance, really, and each path was probably the same anyway – huge trees and weird flowers everywhere. But as she moved forward, she felt something on her back that stopped her still. She turned around, thinking that maybe it was a branch, but there was a huge empty space behind her. It was probably the wind then, but it had felt physical. She frowned.  
“Morgana?”  
“hmm?” Morgana mumbled.  
“Did you felt a gush of wind right now?”  
“Huh? No.” She blinked. “Gwen, are you cold? Are you feeling unwell?” She asked hurriedly.  
Gwen looked at her in confusion. “No-o?”  
“I'm fine!” She added, noticing that Morgana was starting to look really worried. “I just thought... I felt something. On my back, touching me.”  
Morgana said nothing. Gwen raised an eyebrow.  
“It wasn't you right?” Morgana had been too far to touch her and get back to where she had been before Gwen could see her. But that woman had some skills that even Gwen didn't know and she wouldn't put it past her to do that, to scare her or something.  
“It wasn't me.” Morgana said firmly. She looked right into Gwen's eyes, and Gwen didn't even think of doubting her.  
“It was probably the wind.” She sighed. It was getting darker and they were losing time.

Gwen turned back toward the path and tried again to take a step forward but as she moved her feet she stumbled against... nothing. Nothing.  
She managed to get her balance back while pointedly not looking at Morgana who probably now had both her eyebrows raised in confusion. This time, she observed the ground carefully before moving, and it was only when her feet was flat on the ground and she felt steady enough to actually walk that she noticed she wasn't in the path she had planned to take.  
The idea of turning back crossed her mind for half a second before she muttered “What the heck.” and started walking.  
“This way!” She called Morgana who immediately appeared at her side. Really this woman had some skills. Also, she didn't ask any question about Gwen's weird behaviour, something Gwen was eternally thankful for as she didn't understood what happened herself. She flinched when her hand brushed Morgana's as they walked, but when she looked at her, she had a small smile on her face that filled Gwen's heart with a comforting warmth.

They found the clearing at the end of the path, only half an hour after the strange events that had made them choose it.  
It was near a small cliff in which there was a smaller waterfall toward which they both ran as soon as they saw it, drinking until their stomachs were ready to explode. The grass that covered the ground was thick and comfortable, and the cliff was bended enough to offer them cover if it rained.  
It was only when they lay down next to each other, curled up under Morgana's coat, that Gwen realized that the feeling on her back left. She hadn't even realized that it had been here until it wasn’t , actually. But she hadn't felt weird or scared while they had walked; on the contrary, she had grown more confident that she'd made the right decision with each step.  
“Morgana...” She whispered in the night. “Do you think the forest is alive and that it guided us here?”  
“Huh?”  
“I felt something, while we walked. Something that pushed me to choose this path. Maybe it was magic,” she said, her voice going quieter when she spoke the word “magic”.  
“Oh.” Morgana said, “It was probably a spirit of the island. I heard these kinds of places were full of them.”  
“A spirit?” Gwen said loudly. If she hadn't been so tired she would have jumped to her feet.  
“Yes. Not all are dangerous, and if one helped us, it is rather a good thing. It means we are protected by something that know the island, and it's one of the best thing we can wish for now.” Morgana explained. She sounded certain and again, the thought of doubting her didn't cross Gwen's mind.  
She simply nodded, smiled and fell asleep as soon as her eyes were closed.

 

 

**Leon.**

Sand. And more sand. And rocks too! How surprising! Really, after hours of only sand and rocks, what should he have expected? Leon was a clever man and knew that there had to be something else on this island, because he had seen birds – many birds – and there would not be so many if there weren't plants near. And those rocks had to lead somewhere. They kept going up and up, and at some point walking had turned into climbing. He just wanted some place with a shadow to rest under and clear water to drink. Certainly if the odds had let him survive they could give him that. He sighed, and kept going.

The sky was dark and menacing over him when he first caught a glimpse of the forest. It wasn't that far; on a straight line it could be reached in an hour at most, but he hadn't even known it was there, so he couldn't have known in which direction to go. Now that he knew, however, he could speed up.  
He was exhausted, still wet, his head hurt from too long spent under the bright sun that had been there earlier, his hands were covered in small cuts from the rocks he had to climb and now there was another storm coming. Any other man would probably have given up long ago, but Leon was a knight – not any knight, a knight of Camelot. Arthur's knight.

The first thing Leon did when he woke up on a deserted beach was to check himself for injuries. Once he had been sure that he was fine, his second thought went to Arthur. Later, he would blame himself for not thinking about the king first, especially since he was the only one of Arthur's knights who had worked under Uther's orders before. But, really, who did he think he was fooling? Every knight who followed Arthur was loyal to him first and foremost. It was unspoken, but they all knew it, Arthur included.  
So Leon thought about his prince and hoped that if he had survived, maybe Arthur had too. And if that was the case, then Leon had to find him, or die trying.

“And of course there's another tempest coming,” he mumbled after glancing at the dark clouds over him. He could already feel the beginnings of rain in the air.

He sped up again, almost running now. If he hurried enough, maybe he could reach the forest before the storm reached him. He was quite certain that if he ended up soaked again he would die of a cold before reaching the first tree.

Later, Leon would blame the exhaustion and the sunstroke on why he didn't notice the shape on the ground. It was partially true after all, if he had been in better form, he would have been able to focus on all his surrounding and not only the reassuring shape of the forest in front of him.  
But the fact remained that he hadn't seen the shape, had stumbled against it clumsily, and that he had managed not to fall face first on the ground only because of his years of training.  
As soon as his hands touched the ground, he pushed himself up, jumped a step back, drew his sword in front of him and stared at the shape.

The shape was in fact not a simple shape, but one hidden under what looked like a very large, very old and very dirty piece of fabric. Leon couldn't tell if it was human or not. It was too small to be an adult, so he relaxed and grabbed on corner of the dirty fabric. He expected it to be an animal who escaped from the forest, which is why when he tugged on the fabric to reveal a perfectly human child, he let out a small cry of surprise.  
The child, a boy, was curled in on himself, arms around his head, hiding his eyes. He was shaking, visibly tense and Leon felt a ball of guilt rising in his stomach. His first instinct, as a knight, was to be wary but it took only a few second before he accepted that the child was terrified and not a menace.  
“I mean you no harm,” Leon said as nicely as possible. He didn't know if the child could understand him, but he could probably hear in his tone that Leon was not a danger.  
The child opened his mouth, as if to speak, and then... The rain fell, strong and heavy, drowning any other sound in the noise of the drops hitting the ground. Leon looked around him, at the forest, then at the child. With him, he couldn't make it to the forest before they got drenched. His clothes were already soaked again anyway. The child, however, seemed alright under his old blanket. He had pulled it over himself again, letting only his head out. His wide light-blue eyes were staring at Leon intensely.  
“Get under it.”  
Leon blinked.  
“It will protect you from the rain.” The child raised the blanket to allow Leon to hide under it next to him. The knight did so slowly, carefully, still afraid that any abrupt movement would scare the child away.  
Only when he was lying on the dry ground, protected by the strangely hermetic piece of fabric and looking at the child next to him in the shadow, that Leon wondered how the hell had he been able to hear his voice so clearly in the noise of the tempest.

 

 

**Gwaine.**

Gwaine had seen the clouds from afar, and had heard the rain has he came closer, but still he walked in the direction of what was apparently a small, very localised tempest. It was that or getting into the forest and that was something he would like to avoid for as long as he could. A least here he could see all around him and if he were to be attacked, he would have more chance of winning. He had never been one for small spaces.  
Thankfully, the rain seemed to have stopped when he arrived on the place where the second tempest happened. The ground – rocks, apparently – was wet and slippery. He sighed. He wasn't going to be able to get closer to the sea, where the bodies would be if there were any. He would have to wait and he hated waiting.

He grumbled and kept on walking, looking at his feet to make sure he didn't fall. Which was why he didn't immediately notice the moving shape on the ground a few feet away from him. As soon as his eyes caught it, he stopped moving. What on earth was that? It looked like nothing he had ever seen before. The shape was huge, black and wet and moved in a way no human could. It seemed to have two legs. And probably two arms. Or maybe more.  
Gwaine blinked, shook his head to clear his mind and brandished his knife in front of him, ready to attack.  
“What kind of monster are you?” He yelled. “Show yourself!” He took a step forward. The monster stopped moving. He took another step.  
“Gwaine?” A small voice came from the monster, and it pierced Gwaine's heart with pain when he recognized it.  
“Are you a demon, imitating my friend's voice?” He said angrily, now ready to kill the beast.  
“Gwaine, it's me!” The voice repeated and then things happened in the blink of an eye.

The monster rose from the ground, and as it did so, the black matter covering him fell, revealing an obviously relieved Leon. Gwaine's eyes widened.  
“Leon?”  
“Not a demon, I promise!” The knight said, raising his hands in front of him to prove that he was unarmed. A smile was drawing slowly on Gwaine's lips, and soon, he was laughing out loud as he walk hurriedly toward Leon and promptly hugged him.  
“Friend, you have no idea how good it is to see you!” he said.  
“Oh believe me, I do,” Leon replied.  
“I thought certainly you had all perished in the sinking and I was going to wander here alone until I died of hunger.” Gwaine paused. “Or more probably I would have found some nymphs of the forest and become king of the island in exchange of allowing them to watch my wonderful body.”  
Leon laughed too then, allowing himself to relax a bit now that he was in friendly company.

“Tell me Leon, where is your sword? Please tell me you didn't lose it in the sea, because a small knife won't be of much use if we meet hostile creature, or people.”  
“Oh no, it's right here next to the... Oh.”  
“Next to the O?” Gwaine raised an eyebrow and followed Leon's eyes to where the sword was flat on the ground. Next to a child. A ten years old – maybe a bit older – boy. Sitting on the ground, staring at them. Right.  
“Tell me Leon, you didn't meet a nymph for real and got a magically growing child in the past few hours right?”  
Leon choked.  
“Yes, of course Gwaine, that is exactly what happened.” He replied sarcastically. Gwaine groaned in reply and observed the child.  
“Who is he?” He asked.  
“I don't know.” Leon whispered. “I found him lying under that blanket, then the rain started falling and I hid under it too until it was gone.”  
“Right.”He put his hand on his chin and brushed it thoughtfully.  
“We have to speak with him, he will certainly know the other inhabitants of the island. He can't be alone.”  
“Not here though.” Gwaine said, now looking at the sky. “If I'm right, those dark clouds over the sea are coming right toward us, and I would like not to get drenched again. Let's go to the entrance of the forest. We might find shelter there until the weather goes back to tolerable.”  
Leon nodded and got on his knees to talk to the child. Gwaine observed the scene with attention. He didn't understand what a young boy could be doing outside, alone, in such a place, when the weather was so terrible. What kind of parent would allow their child to go out in a tempest with just a ridiculous old blanket for cover? Or what if this child was a clever trap for lost travellers like them? It wouldn't be the first time bandits used scared children to trap travellers and knights after all. But what was the point on an empty island like this one? No one ever travelled here. Or maybe, maybe the child was actually a spirit of the island and when they would lower their guards enough he would transform and eat them!

Gwaine's mind was racing, trying to find a possible reason for the child to be here. He hadn't talked at all, simply nodding at what Leon told him. At some point, Leon gave him his hand and they both raised to their feet.  
“It's alright. We can go.” He said to Gwaine. They started walking to the forest, Leon and Gwaine at each side of the boy. After a moment, a question came to Gwaine's mind, and he felt silly for not thinking of it later. Really, referring to him as “the child” was getting a bit redundant.  
He turned toward him, not slowing down and asked :  
“Do you have a name, boy?”  
The child blinked in surprise, but a faint smile appeared on his face. For a moment, Gwaine though he wasn't going to answer, but after a minute, a small, soft voice said firmly: “Mordred.”

 

 

**Arthur.**

Arthur really wanted to think of himself as unlucky since he had fallen into the hands of the sorcerer – named Kilgharrah apparently, what kind of name was that? - but if not for the fact he wasn't free, he had to admit that he had been treated rather well (not out loud of course!). When they arrived to Kilgharrah's cave, he had been given clean and dry clothes, then had been allowed to eat hot food next to a fire that warmed his tense body, and to sleep on what in Camelot he would never have called a bed, but on the island he called a luxury. That, of course, only after Kilgharrah had explained that he would start working for him as soon as the sun was up until he decided what he could do with him. Arthur had been too tired to even think of arguing at the time, and he had fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the semblance of a pillow.  
He had lost a few hours of rest when Kilgharrah had disturbed him, but the rest he got in a dry, warm place under strangely soft covers was way better than the rest he would have gotten in the forest could ever have been.

The reason he didn't complain either when he woke up that morning however was mostly because Kilgharrah had taken his sword and he was almost totally helpless. He was still grateful for the food and shelter, but he hadn’t forgotten that he was a prisoner. He knew perfectly well what treating your prisoner well resulted in. You built trust, and then the prisoner tells you everything you need.  
Thankfully for Arthur, it wasn't the first time he’d been kidnapped, or the first time his abductor tried to built trust; he was certain that this time, like the other, he would manage to get away.

Since he didn't have enough information to act in any way at the moment, Arthur decided that the best thing to do was to cooperate. It was how he found himself at the crack of dawn, in a ravine, picking up dry wood. The ravine was small, not far from the forest, and full of fallen trees – a result of the tempest, Arthur guessed. The topography of the island seemed stranger and stranger to Arthur, and it became obvious that it was bigger than what he had first thought. How Camelot didn't know about the island if it was so large was another mystery, but he was too busy at the moment to concentrate on that.  
Picking up wood didn't take much more effort than training with the knights, even under a bright, burning sun, except for the part that training was interesting and this was just plain boring. It was only cutting, picking, carrying, and going back to start it all over again, and again, and again, and again...

After a few hours, his back hurt badly, he was sweating profusely and the only thing he wanted to do was lie on the ground and die in peace. Of course, that wasn't possible since it meant that he would disobey Kilgharrah. Also, it would mean that he wouldn't be able to look at the man who was staring at him from the other side of the ravine.

Arthur blinked. And blinked again. But even then he was sure that the man wasn't Kilgharrah, or anyone who had been on the boat with him.

The man was tall, a bit scrawny, his skin pale where it wasn't covered in sunburn, his hair black and messy and his clothes even messier. He was also barefoot.  
Arthur stopped moving as soon as he noticed him, his eyes not leaving the man. In the distance, the man seemed quite harmless, but you could never be too careful, so Arthur made sure not to make any move that could look threatening.  
He still didn't move when the man started walking toward him, climbing down the ravine with a clumsiness that made Arthur think he was going to kill himself by falling before they could speak a word. Fortunately that didn't happen, and soon, the man was standing in front of Arthur, smiling.

From close, Arthur could see that the man looked the same age as himself, or maybe a bit younger. His clothes were even messier. He wore an obviously old shirt that must had been white once upon a time, with lose sleeves he had pushed up over the elbow, along with brown linen pants that stopped right under his knees. To complete his “total peasant” look, there was a lose red scarf wrapped around his neck that Arthur would burn if he was given the occasion because really? Even when you live almost alone in an island with no one to judge you, there are some things that are just plain ugly and that you should not wear, period. Even Arthur who couldn’t care less about fashion knew the basics. This man, obviously, didn't.  
But, more important than his clothing style, was the question of who he was and if he was an enemy. Although, enemy or not, now that Arthur had seen him from close, he was certain that he could take him in one blow.

“Hi.” The man said, smiling widely. Arthur's eyes widened, surprised by the smile and by the fact that they spoke the same language.  
“H-hi?” He replied, a bit hesitant. The boy kept smiling.  
“Who are you?” Arthur finally asked, trying to sound firm and confident.  
“I'm Merlin.” The man replied enthusiastically. “Who are you?”  
'I'm P- I'm Arthur.” Oh no. Divulging his identity as a prince to someone he didn't know was always a bad idea. If he could keep his last name secret – assuming the man didn't know about Camelot and the Pendragons like Kilgharrah, or that he didn't know Kilgharrah – could save his life. Probably.  
“I saw you coming with Master Kilgharrah yesterday.” Merlin said after a moment. They still hadn't moved. They were standing still, three feet away from each other. Arthur was still carrying wood on his back.  
“Master?”  
What could an evil sorcerer teach? This boy didn't have the making of an evil sorcerer though, that was evident. He seemed to know Kilgharrah but not who Arthur was, and he looked way too innocent for it to be faked. He had those eyes, full of wonder, like ones of a child, of a blue clearer than the sky or the sea, covered by long curved eyelashes that made a delicate shadow on his cheek and...  
“W-what do you mean by master?” Arthur said, sputtering on the first word. Really, in this kind of situation, how could he let his mind wander this way? Certainly it was the strain from the previous day and all the wood carrying, or maybe he was getting a sunstroke. In any case, he wasn't in his normal state. He shook his head to clear his mind.  
Merlin was looking at him like he was a five year old child, or like he had some kind of mental affliction.  
“I mean, I am his student, and he is my master. He teaches me... Stuff. What else could a master be? Are you stupid?”

Arthur took a deep breath before speaking again, even allowing himself to close his eyes to calm down. Who this guy though he was?  
“Are you stupid? He's a sorcerer, of course I think it could mean something else!”  
Merlin's eyes widened.  
“Are you... Oh my god no. Please, don't say anything.”  
“What?”  
“Can we please change the subject?” Merlin pleaded.  
Arthur sighed loudly.  
“Can you please explain to me who the fuck you all are and what the hell on earth is this island? Because you're the first person I met here who talks like a normal human being, so I might as well ask,” he said between his teeth.  
Merlin tilted his head.  
“You should put that wood down first, you look exhausted. Here, give it to me, I'll carry it while you rest.” He made a gesture toward Arthur while speaking, but Arthur reacted instinctively and moved away.  
“I prefer not. I was assigned this work and I don't want to risk anything by not doing it properly,” he said, his voice quieter.  
“Kilgharrah is in his study right now, you have at least a few hours! And believe me, he isn't a bad man. This isn't how he usually acts, and I'm absolutely certain he wouldn't harm you.”  
Arthur let out a bitter laugh. He wanted to trust Merlin, but he’d met the man minutes ago, and half their conversation had been calling each other stupid. At least, Merlin spoke to him normally and not in riddles like a certain sorcerer.  
“I’d really prefer not.” He insisted.  
“You're obviously exhausted, here, let me...” And on those words, Merlin threw himself on Arthur to try to grab the wood on his back, but in what seemed to be his usual clumsiness, lost his balance and managed to make them both fall on the ground, scattering the wood everywhere in doing so.  
“You are impossible!” Arthur yelled, but he couldn't help the smile that was starting to appear on his face. Merlin was smiling too, obviously trying not to laugh. Which Arthur, did, nervously, when he realized that Merlin was currently sitting on top of him in what he would call a very embarrassing position. Oh.  
“Merlin. You are a bit... Huh... Crushing me.” He said a bit breathlessly.  
“Hmm?” Merlin blinked, looked at Arthur, blinked again and suddenly his cheeks – no, his whole face – turned bright red and he was up and away from Arthur in a half a second.  
“Sorry!” He said, looking away from Arthur. Still, he held out his hand to help Arthur get up, which Arthur took after a short hesitation. But Merlin, despite being completely silly, was nice, so maybe he could try to be nice in return. It had nothing to do with the way Merlin's cheeks had coloured and his eyelashes had fluttered and he had licked his lips... But they were on a desert island and everyone Arthur had ever known or liked was probably dead, so there was no harm in allowing himself to enjoy the view of a beautiful – if still silly, he had to insist on the point – human being. And for once, no one would judge him because the human in question was obviously male and he was the Prince of Camelot destined to marry someone who could carry his heir.

In the end, they both picked up the wood on the ground and carried it to where it was supposed be, and then Merlin had brought him water, and had insisted on picking up the wood with him. They talked quite a lot, and while Arthur was careful to leave out his last name and role, he learn that Merlin had arrived on the island when he was a small child so that he didn't remember anything else. It was just him and Kilgharrah here, and the spirits.  
Arthur had choked at the mention of the spirits. It was already weird to hear Merlin talking of Kilgharrah, a sorcerer, with respect. Even just hearing him talk about sorcery so easily was weird. After all, it was outlawed in Camelot and the repression was such that most people feared even saying the word. But the way Merlin talked about it, like it was the most normal thing ever, and with some kind of childish wonder, made Arthur relax unconsciously, and he found himself smiling or even laughing at some comments that, back in Camelot, would have seen Merlin thrown in the dungeon.  
The sun was starting to set when Merlin told Arthur that he had to go before Kilgharrah came, because apparently he wasn't supposed to know about Arthur, much less be talking to him.

Before leaving, Merlin took Arthur's hands in his and held them tight.  
“I will be back tomorrow. My, this is so exciting! You're the first human I’ve met and...” A pause. “I will be back!” he said, letting go of Arthur's hands and running away, constantly glancing back to look at Arthur. A wide smile was plastered on Merlin's face, to which Arthur couldn't help but respond with a smile of his own, all crooked teeth out.  
Before disappearing at the end of the ravine, Merlin waved, but Arthur didn't move. His hands were still raised in front of him where Merlin had left them, still warm, the contact of Merlin's long fingers a lingering feeling on his skin.  
“Tomorrow,” he muttered, and got back to work.  


	3. PART 2

**Agravaine.**

He couldn't admit it, of course, but Agravaine's priorities were different from Uther's. Sure, Agravaine too wanted to leave the island, but first, he needed to find Morgana, and second, he needed some time to do what they had planned to do on the boat. The island was perfect. There would be no witnesses, and no one to think he could be lying when he would say that “our beloved King Uther Pendragon died in the sinking of his ship”.  
He had had all the time to imagine his speech for when he would be back in Camelot, the past night, when they had tried to sleep on the cold, hard ground before waking at sunset to keep walking. Agravaine, despite being an active knight in his youth, wasn't very fit and all this walking made his feet and his back hurt terribly. Uther looked tired too, but less than Agravaine which was infuriating. That man still had life in him, and Agravaine sometimes got the feeling that it was because he was sucking the life out of someone else. The people of Camelot, probably.

Uther had sucked the life out of Camelot. He had killed Ygraine, Agravaine's beloved sister, and he had transformed his son into himself. His son, who was born on Ygraine's blood, and who was now becoming Uther's double. Agravaine had lost hope in Arthur long ago. The boy wasn't worthy of the throne of Camelot, he would be just as bad as Uther, and destroy many people's lives like Uther destroyed Agravaine's when he killed his sister. None of them deserved to live, and Uther was going to be dealt with soon.

Except that Agravaine needed Morgana, and that at the moment, he didn't have any idea if she was even alive. If she truly was dead, all would be lost. Morgana was needed to take the throne of Camelot. After all, she was a rightful heir, as much as Arthur. No one knew it yet, except Agravaine and Morgana herself, but she was Uther's daughter, and as such the first in the line of succession after Arthur. If Agravaine tried to take the throne for himself, he would immediately be labelled as a traitor, but if Morgana did after her real identity was revealed, the people would welcome their queen. Agravaine would be her right hand – he was much better at ruling in the shadow, had always been – and they would restore the glory of Camelot.

At first, Agravaine had approached Morgana because he knew of her true link with Uther, and he knew how she despised Uther's war against magic users. But then, she revealed her own powers – those of a seer – and what a pleasant surprise it had been. She had a real reason to want Uther dead, and it had been easy to favour her decision.  
They had a plan, before the sinking. Something simple, discreet. Poisoning. No one would know, what with Uther getting old and the food not being that fresh... By the time they returned to Camelot, Uther would have been dead without anyone able to do anything about it. It would have been easy, however, it also would have been only the first step.

The problem was Arthur. Morgana didn't want to hurt Arthur, despite Agravaine's insistence that he was just like his father, despite all the proofs he had that there was nothing to save in the boy. But she kept repeating “He is different, Uncle Agravaine, I know him. He's a good man.” like a lovestruck teenage girl. Yet, when he had proposed another solution to the Arthur problem that didn't involve killing him, she had been horrified.

“He's my brother, uncle!”  
“He is your half-brother and...”  
“No! I can't! I won't! Even if we weren't related, I couldn't. We were brought up like siblings, the fact that we didn't know we actually are siblings doesn't change the fact that I will never, ever marry him.”  
“Morgana, we need you on the throne, there is no other way...”  
“Find one!”  
And she had stormed of the room, strong-headed as usual and leaving Agravaine in a very uncomfortable situation.

Uncomfortable situation that could be resolved soon. The island could not only hide Uther's “accidental” death, but also Arthur's – if he wasn't already dead, which would solve all of Agravaine's problems effortlessly. Morgana wouldn't even have to know that the death wasn't completely natural. It was _perfect_.  
Only, he had to deal with Uther first and foremost, and with the two knights accompanying them. The whole plan depended on the “no witnesses” parts and unfortunately for the knights, they were witnesses, as long as they were alive. Agravaine had no chance to win a physical fight against them, but one of the mind... Knights were known to be a bit light on the brain side. Killing them would be easy, they wouldn't have any idea what hit them.

Agravaine laughed quietly. Everything would be fine. That sinking was a unexpected opportunity that he was welcoming with open arms. He stumbled a bit on a root, another one, catching himself on Uther to avoid falling.  
“Agravaine!” Uther growled. “Watch where you put your feet.” He moved away from Agravaine who was regaining his balance.  
“Sorry, sorry sire!” He chuckled. Uther kept walking without a second glance.  
The knights, however, were watching him closely.  
“Are you alright, my lord?” One of them asked – Lance... Lancelot? He wasn't sure.  
“Yes, fine. It's just that I'm not in my best form. Old age and all that.”  
The knight tried to smile but he looked more uncomfortable than anything, and he walked back next to his companion after a moment, which was exactly the reaction Agravaine had expected. Everything was going as planned.

Then, he bumped into Uther. Uther, who had stopped abruptly and wasn't moving at all.  
“U- Sire?” Agravaine asked after stepping back. “Is everything alright?”  
At his surprise, Uther yawned, loudly and shamelessly, and then, fell to the ground.  
What?  
Agravaine turned on his feet, searching for the knights who had been walking right behind him but... They were lying on the ground just like Uther. For a short moment, as he crouched slowly and reached for Uther's neck, Agravaine hoped and prayed to all the gods he knew that they were dead, that some divinity of the island heard his wishes and killed them for him.  
His fingers touched Uther's neck and found a pulse. Agravaine swallowed. Of course they weren't dead. Uther and the two knights were sleeping like babies.

Agravaine tried calling them, shaking them, even punching them but nothing worked. They stayed asleep. Half an hour had passed and they were still asleep. Oh.  
An idea came to his mind and he felt so stupid for not thinking about it earlier. He walked to the knights and carefully took one of their swords. It was a bit too heavy for him, but it would do. It wasn't like he was going to have a fair fight anyway. Once he got a good hold of it, he walked back to Uther, and carefully put the tip of the blade on the king's neck.

 

 

**Gwen.**

They started walking soon after waking up.  
Since that moment when she felt pushed to go in one direction, Gwen felt more confident in her instinct and had been the one guiding Morgana and herself through the forest. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew they were going where they were supposed to.

Waking up curled up against Morgana had been very awkward, but still very nice, especially because Morgana had laced her arms around Gwen's waist and was holding on her so tight Gwen had to wake her up to disentangle herself. The sun had been up and bright for a while already, meaning they overslept, but it wasn't like there was anyone to tell them so or any responsibilities demanding that they wake early on the island so Gwen didn't feel to bad about it.  
They ate fruits, same as the day before, and rinsed themselves in the small waterfall in the clearing. Now, that had been... peculiar.

The thing was, Gwen had always found Morgana beautiful, like every single person who had seen her at least once. She had seen her quite intimately, had bathed her, washed her hair, had dressed her, had seen her naked in her bed after a night in interesting company, had talked with her of those nights, and it was normal. The was no awkwardness, no blushing or eyes wandering where they shouldn't, like there was when Morgana undressed and went in the clear and very transparent water.  
Gwen couldn't help it. Morgana was just... beautiful. She kind of wanted to put her mouth all over that fair skin, which was a new feeling, and not a totally unpleasant one. She was certain that Morgana would make the most delicious sounds if she could put her mouth _down there_.  
“Gwen! Come on! Get in the water”  
Suddenly, Gwen had felt a lot more self conscious at the idea of getting naked in front of Morgana. It had happened a few times, mostly when Morgana decided that Gwen was her living doll and that she could dress her up with her clothes.

Gwen had never found herself beautiful, not like Morgana or any of the princesses and noble women who came to visit Camelot. She didn't hate herself either, she was ordinary and fine with it. Her ideal of a romantic relationship was to find a nice, ordinary boy like her who would treat her well and have a nice, ordinary life with him. But then, she started working for Morgana, and got involved in a not so ordinary world, and started crushing on knights, and even on the prince! None of those feelings had been close to the growing warmth in her heart she felt for Morgana at the moment however.  
Now that she thought about it, it had been long in the making, her falling for Morgana like that. It just had to reveal itself to her when she was lost on a deserted island with the woman of her dreams of course. It couldn't be easy.  
The point was, undressing in front of Morgana – who was watching her deeply – made Gwen feel more self-conscious than usual.

As soon as Gwen was naked, she dropped into the water, tried to hide herself a bit. It felt good, the fresh, clean water on her skin, and she was glad she got the occasion to clean a little. After all, they didn't know when they would find clear water again.  
Morgana followed her when she got out, shaking her head to shake the water from her hair, splashing Gwen who chuckled at the vision of Morgana shaking like a wet dog.  
They dried themselves as well as they could and dressed quickly, staying silent while doing so, Gwen trying very hard not to look at Morgana again. It had been almost impossible when they were in the water, her eyes always finding Morgana despite herself.

Once she was dressed, she turned to talk to Morgana and... Oh. Morgana was not done yet, and her chest was still uncovered, and she was standing in a way that Gwen had a full view of it. Gwen felt herself blushing. She couldn't not look, but she couldn't hide it either. Morgana was trying to lace her dress alone, and struggling with it, the bust being stuck in a way that she would need Gwen's help to put it on properly.  
Gwen coughed and went to Morgana.  
“Here, let me help you.”  
Morgana just laughed and muttered something about not being able to dress herself, really she had thought she was better than all those god damn princesses that had heart attacks if they hadn't at least fifteen different dresses with them at all times.  
And that had been it. Gwen had helped Morgana put on her dress, very careful not to touch her skin – especially her chest – while doing so, and to not look where she shouldn't. Really, she was better than this and she didn't want to make Morgana uncomfortable, she couldn't do that! And they set off, ready for another day of wandering in the island.

“And, of course, Elyan kept teasing me about it, because the other man was a noble man and all the girls of the village had a crush on him, but I was eight at the time, and he had a crush on the young lady that accompanied him, so as much as I wanted to cry, I yelled “You'll see when I marry a prince, you won't laugh anymore, because I have more chance to be with him than you have to be with a princess!” and ran away. The nobleman left the following day, but I stayed angry at Elyan for an entire month!”  
Morgana exploded laughing when Gwen finished talking.  
They had been keeping themselves busy like this, by telling stories of their lives. It was Gwen who talked the most, because Morgana insisted. She seemed truly interested in Gwen's silly stories, so Gwen didn't mind. It brought back some memories... Her brother who she hadn't heard from in years, since he went on a quest to prove himself and find a meaning to his life after learning that he could never become a knight since he wasn't high born. Her father...  
“My father was on my side you see, so he fought with Elyan. He called me his little princess, and Elyan kept saying I would make a terrible princess and made me cry. It happened more after my mother passed away, because we were all more tense, what with arriving in a new city and everything...”  
Morgana nodded. She knew about Gwen's dad, of course she did, she had been the first person Gwen had talked to when the whole mess happened.

Talking about her dad still hurt, but it was hard to talk about her entire life without mentioning him. It was still recent after all, it was normal to still be sad.  
The atmosphere had changed abruptly, going from relaxed to heavy in the blink of an eye.  
“Gwen...” Morgana said softly, putting a hand on Gwen's forearm. “For your father, I'm still sorry I couldn't do anything. My apology won't change what happened but I wished...”  
Gwen held back a sob, slowed down and took Morgana's hand in hers.  
“It's fine,” she said, voice trembling despite herself. “I know. It's fine.”  
“No it isn't!” Morgana yelled. “Your father died, Gwen, for something he didn't have, something that even if he did have, shouldn't have killed him. It is so unfair, I don't understand how can you stay so calm?”  
Gwen stopped, still holding tight to Morgana's hand. She took a deep breath.  
“It's true. It's not fine,” she said calmly. “It's unfair and it hurts and sometimes I want to scream and hit something. Someone. But what would it change? My father is gone, and I wouldn't respect his memory by doing that.”  
It was a little speech she had repeated to herself hundreds of times, in the worst moments right after the execution, when she wanted so badly to take a sword from her father's workshop and kill someone... or herself.  
“But you know who to blame. You know it's Uther's fault. He took your father away from you for selfish, stupid reasons, and he almost took you too. How can you bear to look at him? I know I couldn't. I... I already can't.” Morgana said, quieter, but there was still anger in her voice that couldn't be hidden.  
Gwen moved closer to Morgana, taking her other hand in hers, and smiled softly.

How she had hated Uther, during and after the trial. As soon as the guards had come for her father, she had known there was no way this would end well. It never ended well when sorcery was involved, and all proof led to her father. Uther was deaf and blind when he thought he was facing a sorcerer, and no testimony could help. There were bags of magic powders in the blacksmith's house and that was all he cared about.  
She hid in Morgana's room when he was hanged. Morgana had held her during the whole thing and after, letting Gwen cry against her chest. Then, they had to fight with tooth and nails before Uther would allow Gwen to stay in Camelot and in Morgana's service. Morgana had to starve herself for Uther to break. It was the worst time of Gwen's life, worse than when she lost her mother – she was young and couldn't remember it well, worse than when her brother left – as far as she knew, he was still alive, somewhere – and she fought every day to not let the pain take over.

“I hated him at first, so much, he took everything from me. My brother, my father, he almost took away my home and my friends. And yes, I couldn't stand to look at him, but then I realized that this is how Uther thinks. That this is how it feels to be filled with hate and I didn't like it. I woke up one morning and could see the anger and the hatred on my face, and I thought “this isn't me”. So I decided to forgive him.”  
“Forgive him? He doesn't deserve such kindness!”  
“I know. But I couldn't live without doing it. I couldn't live with so much hatred in me. I couldn't see myself becoming like him.  
Uther is blinded by his hatred, even if he isn't a bad man. I didn't want to become like that, so I decided to love and forgive. What would revenge bring me anyway? It won't bring my father back. It won't change anything, except that I would be executed too.” She tried to laugh, but it sounded bitter.  
In front of her, Morgana was shaking.  
“Morgana, it is fine. I am fine.”  
Slowly, carefully, she let go of Morgana's hands, only to lace her arms around her waist and allow Morgana's head to rest on her shoulder, pulling their bodies together into a tight hug.  
The movement had been instinctive, the urge to hug Morgana overwhelming, and as her fingers brushed Morgana's hair, and her arms hold on Morgana firmly, and Morgana curled her fingers into Gwen's dress, against her skin, sobbing against her neck but breathing slower and her heart beating at a normal speed again, Gwen didn't regret it at all.  
She didn't know how long they stayed like this, holding on each other, but Gwen wished she never had to let go.

**Gwaine.**

In all the confusion, there was one thing Gwaine was certain of. The child, Mordred, was creeping him out. It wasn't that Gwaine thought he was dangerous or anything, but Mordred kept staring and not blinking or saying anything and it was just plain creepy. It felt like the child was looking into his soul and there was no way of knowing if Mordred liked what he was seeing because his face was always completely blank.

Getting him to talk after finding him had taken hours. Mordred had guided them through the forest without a word, and when they had stopped to rest for the night, it had taken even longer to get him to speak a full sentence.  
In the end, they got the entire story, but it had exhausted them more than all the walking.

There was, apparently, a sorcerer. Great. Of course there was. What else could there be on an island in the middle of nowhere? It couldn't be beautiful nymphs, oh no. And apparently, the sorcerer was very powerful and controlled almost all the island – an island he stole from Mordred's mother – and used Mordred as his slave, doing all the chores, and constantly mocking him, hurting him...  
The thought made Gwaine cringe. Yes, Mordred was creepy, but he was just a child, and it wasn't surprising he reacted so suspiciously to everything if he had been treated so terribly by the sorcerer all his life.  
They talked before going to sleep, or rather, Gwaine and Leon talked and Mordred said a few words, while eating fruit he had told them to pick.  
Mordred had fallen asleep directly on the ground, and Gwaine and Leon had taken turns to watch their small camp.

In the morning, they decided they would seek out the sorcerer and punish him for what he had done to Mordred.  
Gwaine had half joked when he told Leon that in Camelot, it wouldn't matter if the sorcerer had hurt someone or not, he'd still be dead, but they were always bitter when they talked about the executions.  
At the beginning of the purge, they were too young to understand what was happening, and by the time Leon became a knight and Gwaine arrived in Camelot, it had all calmed down. There weren't many sorcerers still around, and then there were fair trials. At some point however, Uther started being more violent, more suspicious, and the number of executions grew, and grew, until every person brought in for trial ended up on the scaffold.  
No one talked about it in Camelot, but it was known that the king was getting old, and it was Gwaine's job to make fun of it and reassure people that everything was fine and they were safe at the same time, even if it wasn't entirely true. The point was that if the people realized the lie, they would blame the fool, not the king.  
It hadn't been official, but the real purpose of their journey had been to take Uther away from Camelot for a little while. Seeing the king like that was difficult for a lot of people. It definitely was more for Leon than for Gwaine. Leon had grown up in Camelot, and had served for years under Uther's orders. Gwaine arrived later, and then he took most of his order from other people. It was known among his friends that the only person he would ever accept as a leader was Arthur and that Uther was nothing in his eyes. The only reason Gwaine showed Uther respect was because he was Arthur's father.

“So what do we do?” Gwaine asked Leon. They were walking side by side, following Mordred who was several feet in front of them, guiding the way.  
“What? We find the sorcerer, and we kill him.”  
“Fine, that's the plan, and believe me I like it, I do want to kill that bastard, but my priority is still finding Arthur.”  
“Right, yes, I see where you're going...”  
“Yes. We have more chance of finding Arthur on the coast than in the middle of the forest.”  
“But we have to take in account the possibility of Arthur being alive and well enough to go into the forest. You know that's what he would do.”  
“But what if he isn't? And even if he is, we don't know how big this forest is. Nothing tells us we will find him.”  
“Then what do you want to do, Gwaine? We have two choices. We can search for Arthur, search the whole island, maybe spend days looking for him, leaving Mordred alone and at the mercy of a sorcerer – putting ourselves in danger too! Or we can go do our- my work, and kill him, and save that child, and search for Arthur once we're all safe.”  
Gwaine stayed silent for a moment, taking a an exaggerated position to show he was thinking, winning a raised eyebrow and a sigh from Leon.  
“Tell me, Sir Leon, you are quite clever sometimes. I shall call you Sir Leon the clever in my songs now!”  
“Gwaine, I wait impatiently for the day when you will shut your mouth and I can put a sword in your hands so they can be put good use, rather than play that thing you call a musical instrument to make our ears bleed.”

They both started laughing, which made Mordred stop and turn around to look at them with his same blank expression. They immediately stopped and straightened up, pretending to be dignified, but as soon as Mordred turned around, they started giggling like naughty children. The way to the sorcerer was going to be long and dangerous and apparently, also very funny.

**Merlin.**

Merlin was bored. Because Kilgharrah had decided that he should hide from Arthur – he wasn't even supposed to know his name – Merlin had to eat dinner alone, and each time he tried to talk with Kilgharrah, the man dismissed him with a “Not now, Merlin” or “I'm busy” or “Don't you have something else to do?”, which left Merlin even more confused and angry.  
He wanted to see Arthur, but he didn't know where he was at the moment and looking for him might alert Kilgharrah of what he had done.  
Arthur was... Arthur was surreal. Arthur was beautiful in a way Merlin couldn't imagine anyone else being. Yes, he could be a bit of a prat, from what Merlin had seen, but being with him felt strangely safe. He could spend hours just looking at Arthur, his movement, the way his back arched when he picked up the wood, the way his hair shone in the sunlight... It was fascinating, and not only because Arthur was a human being, the first Merlin had ever seen.  
Merlin's magic had tingled under his skin the whole time he had been with Arthur that afternoon, like it wanted to burst out and dance in wonder.  
It was only when the sun had set and Merlin had been wandering alone in the forest that he had remembered Kilgharrah's words.

“From all the people on this boat, there is one who is more important than the others. In the following days, all truth will be revealed and destinies will be acted upon.”

What if he meant Arthur? He had to mean Arthur, or why would Kilgharrah have taken Arthur with him? And there was this talk about destinies too. Merlin knew that destinies weren't to be taken too lightly, he had studied them enough, and he also knew that the important ones would reveal themselves in their own time, to allow the involved people to make a conscious choice. And somehow, Merlin got the feeling that his choice would come soon, and after what Kilgharrah had told him, he could guess it wasn't going be a easy one, since apparently nothing in his life was easy.

“Arthur?” He called when he saw the light of a camp fire behind trees.  
He walked slowly, careful not to make any loud sound that could surprise Arthur in the darkness, and called again when he was close enough for Arthur to see him.  
“Oh, it's you,” Arthur said.  
“What do you mean “It's me”? You don't seem very grateful that I came to keep you company.” Merlin teased.  
“I thought you would stay inside, where it's warm and dry. You don't have to be out there.”  
“Hmph!” Merlin crossed his arms on his chest and turned his back to Arthur. Arthur sighed.  
“All right. Thank you, oh mighty Merlin, for deigning to grant me your presence.”  
Merlin stayed where he was, but he knew Arthur could see his shoulders shaking as he laughed. After a short moment, he couldn't pretend any longer and he turned around and walked to Arthur.  
“So, what are you doing?”  
Arthur simply pointed at the pile of wood at his side, and the knife in his hands. Merlin deduced that he was cutting wood to make... something. He wondered why Kilgharrah had him doing that when it could be done more easily and faster with magic. Maybe Kilgharrah just wanted to keep Arthur busy while he waited for... Something else.  
“Need help?” Merlin asked, sitting on the ground next to Arthur.  
“No, I'm fine.”

There was a long silence then, during which Merlin observed Arthur carefully cutting the wood to make a pointed shape. He repeated that several times, and it was interesting to watch – the way Arthur's hands worked the wood, how his movements were assured, direct and effective, how his muscles moved with each action - but after a while the silence became a bit too heavy.  
“Sooo...” Merlin started.  
“What?”  
“Can you tell me about where you're from?”  
“What? Why?”  
Merlin raised an eyebrow.  
“I told you I have never left the island right? I'm curious! Come on! Where do you live? Do you have a house? What is it like?”  
Arthur's eyes widened in surprise, then a dozen of different emotions passed across his face before he looked resigned and started talking.

And Arthur talked, and talked, until the fire was almost completely extinguished. But since it wasn't blown out yet, he kept talking. He talked about Camelot first, describing the city, how big and lively it was, then he talked about the castle. Merlin wondered if everyone in Camelot knew so much about the castle since he remembered reading about royalty and how private they could be, but then, it was just books. Arthur talked about the food, the banquets, the music and the dance and the midsummer's eve celebration, and as he did so, Merlin kept beaming.  
All sounded wonderful, even better than he had imagined, and now more than ever he wanted to leave the island and go and see it in person, possibly with Arthur.  
Then Arthur talked about the war.

He had lived through two, but remembered only one as he had been too young during the first. Merlin's face fell as Arthur explained how the people of Camelot were kept safe at great cost and how he had seen so many villages, once peaceful, ravaged by the enemy's army.  
“You participated in the war?” Merlin asked in a whisper, afraid that his question was too personal and could bring back some bad memories.  
“Yes.” Arthur replied without hesitation, and for a short moment, Merlin could see his eyes becoming hard and cold, but Arthur blinked and the expression was gone.  
“Aren't... Only knights allowed to fight?” Merlin asked tentatively. Arthur looked like a knight – a magnificent one – but he hadn't mentioned it he was.  
Arthur took a minute to think about it which made Merlin even more curious, before Arthur finally said :  
“In war, we take all the help we can get.”  
That answer sounded incomplete to Merlin, as if Arthur wanted to say more but for some reason couldn't. However, Merlin didn't push, afraid that if he did Arthur would feel that his privacy was being invaded and push Merlin away.  
“What about the battles, then?” Merlin asked instead, hoping that it was a safer subject. A small smile appeared on Arthur's lips and he started talking again.

Merlin started feeling nauseous when Arthur mentioned the Mercian sorcerers. He didn't understand at first why Camelot's army couldn't beat them. From what Arthur explained, there were only a few of them, and they weren't very powerful or coordinated. Two good sorcerers should be enough to take them out. Then he remembered what Kilgharrah had told him.  
“You don't have sorcerers in Camelot.” It wasn't a question.  
Arthur's face went blank.  
“N-no. Sorcery is outlawed and punished by death.”  
“Why?” Merlin just couldn't help himself. He wanted to know, to understand what could make someone misunderstand and hate magic so much. Magic could be beautiful as it could be evil like anything in this world. He thought it was obvious and had only half believed Kilgharrah's tale.  
Arthur seemed taken aback by the question, as if no one had ever asked it.  
“Magic is... Evil...,” he said, but his voice was weak and uncertain.  
Merlin jumped to his feet.  
“That's stupid! Magic isn't evil, anyone who knows anything about magic should know that! That's not how it works!”  
Arthur stared at Merlin, his face frozen in a conflicted expression.  
“Merlin...”  
“No. Don't tell me you believe that. I thought... I thought you were more clever than that.”  
“Merlin!” Arthur yelled. Merlin shut his mouth in surprise, knocking his teeth together.  
“Why would I think differently,” Arthur continued, “when the only thing I know about magic is that it killed my mother.”

Merlin's eyes widened, and he fidgeted for a moment before settling down on to sit next to Arthur instead, his mouth resolutely closed. Merlin didn't know what to reply to that, he wasn't even sure he wanted to. Magic was everything for him, it was his life, it was himself. He couldn't imagine living without it. And now, here he was, facing someone who had spent their whole life hating magic and seeing only the bad side of it. Someone he happened to like and wanted to like despite all that. He had to stop a bitter laugh. Of course, the first human he happened to meet and like would despise a major part of his identity. His life was that ironic.

They stayed silent until Arthur had finished cutting the last piece of wood, they both got up and walked back to the cave. They went in separate directions to go to their beds.  
The evening tasted bitter in Merlin's mouth, and there was an uncomfortable tension between them he didn't know how to chase away. But Merlin didn't want to ruin everything, not when despite their differences there was still a potential for real friendship, so he smiled when he said good night; a bright, warm smile, and he put all his hopes in those three words.  
“Good night Arthur.”  
Arthur seemed confused at first, then hesitant, but...  
“Good night, Merlin.” He smiled back.

**Agravaine.**

Agravaine wanted to kill Uther, but when he got ready to make the move, his body didn't respond. He couldn't move an inch.  
“What...?”  
He tried again, but no, his arm seemed stuck in... something. Or rather, it felt, there was something holding him and keeping him from moving. He could feel a pressure against him, making his muscles tense up painfully. He started to breath faster. He couldn't move.  
But that was all wrong! Surely, whatever divinity of the island that was stopping him had to know that Agravaine was their ally! They should be glad that Uther died. They should be supporting Agravaine! This made no sense!  
And what if... What if Uther woke up before Agravaine could move? What explanation would there be? Uther was a deeply suspicious man, and even blaming the spirits, Agravaine would be under heavy surveillance until they were back in Camelot and Uther was safe behind his guard.

Agravaine’s head started to hurt. There was a smell in the air that reminded him of the sea, but the sea wasn't close. He started to feel hot, and sweat rolled down his forehead. Did the spirits plan to kill him?  
“You're making a mistake!” He yelled. “This man is your enemy!”  
But Agravaine still couldn't move and the world was getting heavier and hotter. His vision started to darken around the corners and... No, no he couldn't die here, not like this! This wasn't the death he deserved! He closed his eyes and let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, and just like that, the world started moving again.

He just had the time to draw back the sword and move away before Uther opened his eyes.  
“What happened...” Uther muttered. “Agravaine?”  
“Sire!” Agravaine exclaimed with the best fake smile he could could manage. He was still breathless and he could feel that his face was red and sweating.  
The knights started to awaken too and in the corner of his eye, he noticed one of them starting to panic when he couldn’t find his sword, until his eyes found Agravaine.  
Uther got up and brushed the dust off his clothes.  
“What happened? Why are you holding that sword?” Uther's tone was cold and firm.

Agravaine swallowed.  
“You all fell asleep! You fell to the ground and I couldn't wake you up. I took a sword to protect you in case anyone or anything tried to attack you while you were defenceless.”  
Uther raised an eyebrow.  
“And why weren't you asleep like us?”  
“I don't know sire. Maybe the spirits of the island didn't think well enough of me to believe I deserved to be touch by their powers.” Agravaine laughed. Uther didn't.  
“Spirits?”  
“It was magic sire, I'm sure of it. I could feel them in the air, hear their song... But they didn't attack, and you are safe, which is all I could ask for.”  
Agravaine was smiling so hard that his face hurt.

“My lord?”  
Agravaine turned around to face the knight that just spoken. He had his hand raised in front of him, and it took moment for Agravaine to understand that he was asking for his sword back.  
“Oh, I'm sorry. This adventure had worn me out.” He said as he returned the weapon.  
It was true, he was exhausted, more than before. But he was mostly angry to have missed such an opportunity. He really needed to put his plan into action before the spirits did something to stop him again. Agravaine still didn't understand why they had done that, but he was going to be more careful now that apparently the knights weren't the only ones he had to worry about.

Uther didn't let them waste any more time, and they were soon walking again at a rapid pace. It didn't take them long to get out of the forest. They found themselves on a beach made up of large rocks, and Agravaine couldn't help but sigh.  
“This is leading us nowhere. There's obviously nothing here. We should go back to the forest. We will be less vulnerable there,” he said.  
Thankfully, Uther nodded his agreement.  
They were ready to turn around when one of the knights called.  
“What is that?”  
They all looked in the direction of see and saw it. The banquet table.

There was, indeed, a banquet table in the middle of the beach on a large, flat rock. Said table was covered in absolutely delicious-looking food. The fact that it was in the middle of nowhere and very probably magic didn't stop Agravaine from salivating. He hadn't realized how hungry he was before, but now his stomach was grumbling.  
“This is sorcery!” Uther shouted. He had refused to come too close to the table. “Stay away from it!”  
The knights stood between Uther and the table while Agravaine was circling it, inspecting it to see if he could find any proof it was dangerous. But he was so hungry...  
“Considering, Sire, that we are starving and that this seems quite harmless, I said it'd be a terrible waste not to eat anything.”  
“You fool!” Uther said. “It is obviously the work of evil spirits!”  
“Sire.” Agravaine smiled. “If you don't trust it, let me eat first, so that you'll be sure it's safe.” Not that Agravaine really cared. He didn't think he had ever been this hungry before in his life, he just wanted to eat and the banquet looked so tasty...  
So he took a fruit from one of the plate and ate it.

**Morgana.**

As much as she was enjoying spending time alone with Gwen, free of the restrictions of Camelot, Morgana still wished they could meet someone, anyone, just to know they were not alone and that there was a way to leave the island.  
Being with Gwen like this, without the rules imposed by their roles of lady and maid, was more enjoyable than she could have guessed. It had obviously been a bit hard for Gwen to get rid of years of training and call Morgana by her first name, but after just a day, they were familiar enough that Gwen didn't even flinch when Morgana touched her. Gwen made this whole experience more bearable, and if Morgana had had to choose anyone to be with her in a situation of this kind, she would always have chosen Gwen without hesitation.  
Still, it would be nice to know for sure that they could be back in Camelot, because Morgana liked her comfort and she was starting to miss her bed and cooked food deeply.

There was a problem with Gwen however that was very annoying. She was too nice, too compassionate, and it was rubbing on Morgana making her reveal a part of herself she had buried deep inside her years ago. She had forgotten how to be nice like that, and remembering it made her realize what she had become.  
Morgana had just started to realize how little they really talked, and how little she really knew about Gwen. She had vaguely heard about Gwen’s brother before, and of course Morgana knew what happened to Gwen’s father, but she hadn't known the details, and Morgana felt bad that she had dared to claim the title of friend when she had been so uninterested about Gwen. Morgana planned to change that now, of course. She wanted to know _everything_.

And everything really meant absolutely everything.  
When Gwen held her, earlier that day, not only had Morgana felt safe and reassured, but she also felt Gwen against her, the warmth of her breath, the softness of her skin, the gentleness of her fingers... It was just a hug, but Morgana couldn't help thinking of what more it could be. For a moment, she had wanted to press her lips against Gwen's skin and lick it. Morgana had managed to control herself – and anyway it would probably have tasted of salt since she had been crying heavily on Gwen – but now that she had thought about it, the idea wouldn't leave her mind.  
Morgana was going to keep her hands and her dirty thoughts to herself. She prided herself in her respect for other human beings, and she wouldn't force herself on Gwen. The last thing she wanted was for Gwen to feel pressured to have a more intimate relationship with her because of Morgana’s rank. It was something that many nobles interested in their servants did. Some of those nobles were terrible human beings and Morgana would have all of them hanged in the public place if given the chance. And she had already found herself in that kind of situation several time, with people pushing her away because they felt they couldn’t trust the sincerity of her advances. She wouldn't risk it with someone for whom she had more than just a sexual interest in.  
Also, it wasn't exactly her priority right now.

She had to find Agravaine. He was going to do something stupid, she was certain of it, since the man was a total fool. She couldn't tell Gwen, but she knew he was alive, and so was Uther. She had dreamed it.

The dreams had started when she came of age. At first, she thought they were just nightmares, but then they started coming true, and when she realized it, she couldn't sleep for weeks. Since then, her nights were a constant torment, and while she couldn't place many of her dreams – too distant, too blurry – some were extremely precise about the world close to her, and those were often the hardest to accept as truth.  
The dream about Agravaine had been clear, but she didn't like what it implied. Agravaine was alone with Uther and two knights, and Agravaine wanted Uther dead. Morgana wanted Uther dead too, but she wanted it done properly.  
There was one reason and one reason only she was working with Agravaine, and it wasn't his cleverness. Morgana didn't know how he had seen through her lies and guessed her secret, but she couldn't risk him telling anyone about it. Plus, he could be useful. If anything went wrong, she could blame him.  
Morgana wished that she could control her powers more, to know Agravaine's intentions, or where he was on the island. Sometimes, when she tried very hard, she managed to do a bit of magic – not just visions. She hoped that once Uther gone and Arthur warmed up to magic, she would find someone to teach her.

Morgana believed in Arthur. She thought he was a pompous, arrogant prat, but she knew him. She had grown up with him and she had seen him in his more intimate moments, when he had been just Arthur and not the prince. It might take time, but she knew that if given the chance, Arthur would understand that magic wasn't evil. That Morgana wasn't evil.  
The fact she wanted Uther dead – and wouldn't mind killing him herself – didn't make her evil in her opinion. It just proved she had a good self-preservation instinct. Even after learning that Uther was her father, she had known he would have to die for her – and hundreds of people with magic - to be truly free and happy. Uther was a curse and he was destroying Camelot while thinking he was saving it. Morgana couldn't allow that.

When Gwen and Morgana finally took a break, to rest their sore feet, it didn't took long for Morgana to fall asleep. She laid down next to Gwen, in the shade of a tree, comfortable in the thick grass. It was warm, and they had eaten well earlier. A short nap seemed harmless.

Morgana woke up screaming.

Gwen was shaking her, her fingers digging into Morgana's shoulders, calling her. Her face was the first thing Morgana saw clearly, after blinking several times to clear her blurred vision. The expression of pure panic on Gwen's face made her quieten.  
Morgana’s voice, when she finally managed to get a word out, was low and broken.  
“Gwen...”  
“Oh my god Morgana, what happened, are you all right? Are you hurt? What happened?”  
Gwen was obviously trying to calm down too, taking deep breaths and removing her shaking hands from Morgana.  
“I had...” Morgana started, carefully moving her own hands.  
She felt strange, like if her body wasn't hers anymore and she was watching it move from afar. Moving her fingers, one by one, was her technique to shake the feeling off. Unfortunately, it was something she was well used to do. She always felt like that after a vision . Except this time, the feeling had been more present than ever before, and she felt nauseous.  
“I'm not hurt, Gwen,” she said finally, making sure to sound as fine as possible to reassure Gwen. It seemed to work since Gwen's shoulders relaxed.

Now that they were both calm, Morgana could concentrate on her dream. It was always confusing at first, but it quickly became clearer. Gwen looked at her with expectant eyes, obviously waiting for an explanation. Morgana swallowed.  
“We have to find Agravaine, quickly.”  
And Gwen nodded, and stood up, and held a hand to Morgana. Morgana blinked.  
“You don't...”  
“I trust you.” Gwen interrupted her. “If you say we have to find Agravaine, even if you can't tell me why, I'll follow you.”  
Morgana felt the tears coming to her eyes. She took Gwen's hand and stood carefully. One day, +she would tell Gwen everything, and maybe Gwen would understand. If there was one person who could, it would be Gwen.  
She smiled at Gwen, still holding her hand tightly.

**Arthur.**

There was only one thing Arthur was certain of : Merlin was a complete mystery. They had spent a day together, and they had talked a lot, but even if Arthur got the feeling he now knew Merlin, he also felt like he didn't know anything about him. Merlin was a bit childish, very ignorant about many things, he was curious and easily amazed. He was enthusiastic about everything. But who was he really? Was he even human?  
There had been times, brief moments, when Merlin had gone quiet, and Arthur couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something about Merlin, something that didn't meet the eye at first but was important, and Arthur was getting frustrated at not finding out what it was.

Another thing bothering him, but not quite as much, was his inability to tell Merlin about Arthur’s royal father. There was the excuse of safety of course, but since Merlin knew Kilgharrah, it wasn't valid anymore. But Arthur knew the real reason he was keeping the fact that he was a prince secret, and that was harder to accept.  
For the first time in his life, he had the possibility to not be _prince_ Arthur, but just Arthur, just himself. For once, he didn't have any expectations to live up to, any protocol to follow, and for the first time in years, the person in front of him treated him as an equal and not with the admiration and fear he was used to. Arthur didn't want to lose that with Merlin.  
And even more, Arthur didn't want to reveal his last name because then Merlin, who was obviously pro-magic – and, Arthur was almost certain, a magic user himself – would probably react to that even more badly than the the “prince” thing. Arthur was used to being judged for his father's opinions and actions, to the point where most people forgot Arthur was his own person, and that despite his responsibility to not admit conflict between the current king and his heir in case it gave their enemies the impression that the Pendragons were weak, he didn't always agree with his father.

Magic had always been a touchy subject for Arthur. He grew up being told it was evil, and it wasn't until he came of age, when he was finally allowed to travel deeper into the land, that he started thinking for himself. As he travelled he learnt more about the old religion than he could ever hope to in Camelot and discover how it was still tied to the land, and how no matter what laws Uther passed, it wouldn't be destroyed so easily.

After that, he started paying more attention to the trials of magic users. Yes, once in a while, there was an evil sorcerer who tried to kill either Arthur or Uther, or the entire city, but mostly, it was farmers, healers, shopkeepers, servants and other ordinary people, who had had the bad luck of being heard when they prayed in the odd language of the old religion before going to sleep, who put bags of herbs under their pillows for a quiet sleep, who had colourful ornaments inherited from their great grandmother, or who brewed foul-smelling potions in the winter that contained ingredients such as a frog's leg to cure the ague.

It didn't take long for Arthur to open his eyes and realize that those people weren't evil. Most of them were way too old to be evil in his opinion, but he had learnt to be careful when it came to magic. But the oldest ones were the majority of magic users they found : they were the one that grew up with the old religion, who's parents and grandparents worshipped the old gods freely, and for most of their lives, those objects and potions and traditions had been natural, obvious. A law, no matter the sentence, couldn't change the habits of a life-time, especially if those habits had always been considered perfectly normal.

It hurt Arthur that he couldn't say anything to save those people, but disagreeing with Uther on the subject of magic, even when you were the Crown Prince, always ended up in death. Or exile, if you were lucky. Arthur forced himself to remember his upbringing, to keep in mind everything Uther had taught him – to forget everything he had learnt by himself – or he would go mad with anger in the face of such injustice. Arthur never imagined he would meet someone like Merlin who would make it all come back to his mind, blinding in its obviousness.

Yes, Kilgharrah was an evil sorcerer, as proven by his presence on the island, but Merlin... if Merlin was a sorcerer, Arthur couldn't imagine him being evil. Arthur was starting to really enjoy Merlin's company and he didn't want him to go away just because he thought Arthur would put him to death like Uther would. With Merlin, there was a potential for a real, genuine friendship like Arthur had never known, even with his knights, and it was not something he wanted to ruin.

Arthur wasn't expecting it when Kilgharrah suddenly appeared but still managed to appear unperturbed. For a moment, he pretended not to notice the man standing behind him, but since Kilgharrah didn't move and Arthur wasn't a patient man, he decided to break the silence.  
“What do you want?”  
Arthur swore he could feel Kilgharrah smile.  
“Follow me, young Pendragon.”  
Arthur turned to meet Kilgharrah's eyes, and as expected, they were shining gold. Arthur sighed, and followed him.

“Now is time.” Kilgharrah announced as they entered the cave. “You are going to meet someone.”  
“What?” Arthur didn't have to pretend to be surprised, he really was. He hadn't expected Kilgharrah to present him to Merlin at all. He hoped Kilgharrah's smirk at his question wasn't as knowing as it seemed to be.  
“Did you expect me to be all alone on this island, young Pendragon?”  
“I didn't expect anything.” Arthur replied coldly.  
Suddenly, there was the sound of books falling and hitting the ground and Arthur saw Merlin, blushing furiously, eyes wide open, his hands that were holding the book still raised in front of him.  
“What?” Merlin said, voice shaking.

Arthur had stopped and was staring straight at Merlin, trying to, somehow, convey his thoughts to Merlin. _You don't know me. You don't know me. Pretend that you don't know me._  
Apparently, the sorcerer hadn't warned Merlin, so, like Arthur, his surprise was genuine.  
Kilgharrah walked towards Merlin, urging Arthur to follow him with a movement of his hand.  
“Arthur, meet Merlin, my apprentice. He will help you in your next task.”  
Arthur swallowed.  
“Merlin.” Kilgharrah continued and Arthur knew that this was it, the moment he had been trying to avoid since he first spoke to Merlin. “Meet Arthur... from Camelot.”  
Arthur gasped. So Kilgharrah wasn't going to reveal his identity to Merlin? Why? Why allow Merlin to trust Arthur? Why give Arthur this chance?  
Kilgharrah was smiling widely now, obviously proud of himself, for some reason. He continued.  
“I need a plant that grows deep in the forest. You will leave at dawn. I will give Merlin the information you need. You should be back before nightfall.”  
Merlin, face expressionless, nodded.  
Arthur's mind was boiling. Many questions he had avoided asking himself so that he could concentrate on his safety resurfacing suddenly. He could already feel the headache coming. Thankfully, before either he or Merlin had to break the very uncomfortable silence, Kilgharrah declared that they should sleep, for the night would be short, and the following day would be long and exhausting. As soon as Kilgharrah had finished speaking, Merlin was gone without a word.  
When his mind finally processed what had just happened, Arthur managed to mutter “G-good night.” to Kilgharrah and walked away to his precarious bed as fast as he could.  
Once Kilgharrah wasn't nearby, Arthur relaxed. The man had this capacity to make Arthur stressed simply by being there. Kilgharrah’s motives were still unclear, but he hadn't made any move to harm Arthur yet, to the contrary : allowing him to meet Merlin looked more like a sign of trust. But then again, it could also be a ploy to destroy him slowly, starting with making him lower his guard. There was no way to know.  
Arthur ran a hand through his hair. The fact remained that he was going to spend a day walking in the forest, so resting was important. And anyway, he could really use some sleep. Chopping wood was tiring!  
As he closed his eyes and drifted into sleep, he couldn't help but smile because yes, he was going to spend a day in the forest, but he was going to do it with Merlin.

**Gwaine.**

They had been walking in the forest for hours, following Mordred who obviously knew his way. The child was still mostly silent, but less so than before. Sometimes, he replied to their questions with words and not just a shake of his head. But he still unsettled Gwaine. There was something twisted in the air around them, Gwaine felt it, even if he couldn't pinpoint the reason precisely.

As they went deeper into the forest, the smell of the sea had gone, changing for a smell of earth and grass and trees. The trees, the plants, everything had become bigger and darker, and now they could hardly see the sun through the large leaves. The forest wasn't technically frightening – it was colourful despite the darkness and alive, not black and dead like scary forest usually were – but it was strange in its uniqueness. Sometimes, there was sound, a smell, that didn't felt real. Sometimes, Gwaine blinked and it looked like everything was glowing, but it was gone with the next blink.  
He wanted to talk to Leon about it, but with Mordred near... Gwaine didn't trust Mordred enough to talk about his fears in front of him. Thankfully, it wasn't the first time Gwaine had found himself in a situation where he couldn't talk to his allies, so he knew how to deal with it. Even so, Gwaine had always a man of action and of instinct. And at that moment, his instincts told him this place was definitely magic, and was getting more and more magical, but that wasn't worrying him.  
Wait. Should he be worried that he wasn't worried? Did that even make sense?  
In any case, he had other worries at the moment because he had been walking slower and slower and he was losing Leon and Mordred. He sighed. Really, they should wait for him, what would they do if he got lost?  
He opened his mouth to call Leon and-- A cold, wet hand touched his neck.

Gwaine didn't scream. He didn't blink, didn't move. It had left as quickly as it had arrived, but he knew it was real. He had felt it. Long fingers had brushed the back of his neck, cold as ice and wet, letting water roll down his back. Now he was definitely scared.  
Then he saw it. It disappeared in a second, but it was as real as the touch had been. The figure of a woman appeared in front of him. She was pale, almost translucent, and she seemed to be floating a few feet above the ground. Long, dark hair contrasted with her pale skin and her white dress. Said dress was the strangest thing about her. At the top, it just looked wet, but at the bottom, it was as if it was actually made of water. But it didn't strike Gwaine as much as her eyes, dark and so kind, and her smile that despite her cold appearance, made her look warm and alive. She moved a hand to her face, raising a finger in front of her mouth, still smiling, then Gwaine finally blinked and she was gone.

Gwaine had to shake his head and rub his eyes several times before he was certain he was in his right mind again. That had been the most magical thing that had ever happened to him. He looked in front of him and noticed Leon and Mordred had turned back and were walking towards him.  
“Gwaine! What are you doing?” Leon called.  
“Oh, you know, daydreaming, enjoying the scenery.” Gwaine replied, trying to sound like his usual self, but he was still shaken and his voice sounded strange and distant to his ears. He hoped Mordred hadn't noticed. Gwaine didn't know why he followed the woman's advice not to say anything, but for the second she'd been here, he had felt... safe. There was no other word. The safest he'd felt since he'd been on the island. He glanced at Leon, who was raising an eyebrow. Of course Leon was going to see through the lie, he knew Gwaine too well.  
They were going to need some privacy to talk about Mordred and the island. There was something going on and they were going to find out what it wast. Mordred was apparently counting on them following him mindlessly, but a knight's trust and help wasn't obtained so easily. (And it didn't matter that Gwaine wasn't officially a knight. It didn't. Matter. At all.) The woman however, was a secret better kept hidden for now.

 

 

 

**Merlin.**

The sun was rising when Merlin met Arthur outside of the cave. Despite the surprise of Kilgharrah allowing them to meet each other officially, and the general excitement of being with Arthur, Merlin's guts were twisted in an uncomfortable feeling of guilt and sadness, and had been since Arthur had mentioned that his mother was killed by magic.  
Knowing that magic, can be use for evil, and hearing about something that had actually happened were a bit different. Since then, Merlin had been searching for a way to talk to it to Arthur without being insensitive. Merlin just wanted to say sorry, somehow, he felt like he had to, but finding the right way to address the subject wasn't easy.  
Thankfully, it was Arthur who spoke about it first. Actually, it was the first thing he said to Merlin when he saw him arriving.  
“I'm sorry for how I talked about magic yesterday. I’m not usually like that and I shouldn't have been so harsh.”  
The words were spoken slowly, carefully, and Arthur was frowning way too much for this early in the morning. Merlin couldn't help but smile.  
“Apology accepted,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “I didn't expected you to apologize, really. I'm surprised.”  
“Oi! I'm not some kind of... I know when to apologize OK? Not like you, just saying.”  
“Oh, yes, right, sorry, I suppose.”  
“You suppose?”  
“Do I have something to apologize for?” Merlin teased, starting to relax.  
“You were rude.”  
“So were you.”  
“And I said sorry!”  
Arthur mumbled something under his breath, sighed, and threw his hands in the air.  
“We should get going, we have a long journey to look forward to, apparently.”  
“Yes we do.” Merlin indicated the entrance of the cave. “Our bags. Food, water and what we need to transport the plant. I tried to make yours as heavy as I could, of course.”  
“You...” Arthur started before sighing again and taking the bag. Of course, it's almost empty, containing only his food and water, while Merlin's contains several small jars and bags and also this book of plants because he never knew when he might need it.  
Arthur pulled a confused face, looked at Merlin, raised an eyebrow, but before he could speak, Merlin declared it was time to go or they wouldn't be back for dinner.  
“So, ready for a journey into the depths of the frightening dark forest?” He joked.  
“Looking forward to it!” Arthur smirked.  
And on those words, they entered the forest.

**Agravaine.**

The food was absolutely delicious. Since nothing happened, Agravaine didn't stop himself at one fruit, oh no, he grabbed handfuls of food, taking from all the plates, fruit, meats, sweets everything. He was still so hungry.  
Next to him, Uther was poking at the food, still suspicious. The knights stayed behind, probably waiting for the king to start eating before they do. They had their hands on their swords and were looking around worriedly. Really, what did they expect? Their swords were useless against magic! Agravaine chuckled.

“Sire, you should taste this! It's delicious!” Agravaine pointed at some strange purple fruit next to him. “It won't do us any good to die of starvation when there's all this food right here!”  
Uther, after a long pause, took the fruit in hand, turning it to examine it. It took another moment until he opened his mouth and took a very small bite of it.

Agravaine hadn't expected the harpies to appear as soon as Uther swallowed the first bite.  
Harpies. Not kind, peaceful spirits, water nymphs or tree faeries. Giant, dark creature with wings darker than night and eyes a piercing yellow, and pointed teeth stained with blood, whose screams were deafening.  
Agravaine and Uther shouted in unison and brandished their weapons, but the harpies were too high above them. The banquet table and the food had disappeared, and the sky was covered with black clouds. The harpies' screams became a chant, and thunder rumbled above them.

Agravaine didn't see the knights, almost didn't see Uther at his side, too focused on the harpies. There was a strong wind that stopped them moving as they wished and made it hard to weild a sword, but Agravaine held on him firmly. This wouldn't be the end of him. He would defeat them or they would become his allies. After all, there was nothing to say the harpies wouldn't kill just Uther.

After more struggling and screaming, finally, the biggest harpy flew toward them, resting right above their heads. It was truly gigantict, with four wings and four eyes and black teeth and claws and it was the most horrifying thing Agravaine had ever seen. Then it spoke, and its voice shook the earth.

“Uther Pendragonm” it said. “You have set foot on this island. Here, you will pay for your sins. You will lose everything you hold dear and more. You will feel the pain of all the people you made suffer. You will lose your son, your daughter and your most trusted advisor. It is the destiny I wrote for you.”  
“Agravaine Dubois. You will fail, and fail again, for it has always been your fate. Your heart is faithless and depraved and there is nothing in you to save and madness will take a hold of you.”

Agravaine dropped his weapon and fell to his knees, the inhuman voice making him shake and sob with pain, piercing his eardrums, making his eyes fill. He put his hands over his head, trying to make the sound go away, but the pain just kept growing and the wind never stopped... Who did those foolish monsters think they were to decide on his fate? He was destined for power! It was all lies! Lies!  
He grabbed his weapon from the ground just in time as the harpies flew at him, teeth and nailss out and started defending himself, screaming at the top of his lungs, unaware of Uther and the knights fighting next to him.

 

 

**Percival**

Percival and Lancelot saw what happened at the same time. Uther took a bite of a fruit, and then both he and Agravaine started shouting at absolutely nothing.  
The knights had stayed back as the lords ate, as it was what the knights always did, especially in a situation like this. Despite their rumbling stomachs, they had decided to wait and were holding their swords, looking out for danger. Thankfully, they had been watching the banquet table when the shouting began so they were able to react quickly, but it didn't help them understand what the hell was happening.

“Sire!” Percival called, but the king didn't seem to hear him. Uther was watching the sky with an expression of pure terror on his face. Percival looked in the same direction, but nothing had changed, except maybe it was a bit darker and windier, but no reason to be utterly terrified.  
“Sire! Can you hear me?” He called again, louder.  
“Percival!” It was Lancelot.  
“He doesn't hear me.” Percival replied, but Lancelot shook his head.  
“No, look... The table! The food! It's gone!”  
Percival blinked. Magic. Of course!  
“Lancelot! I think it's magic! We have to get the king out of here!”  
Lancelot's eyes widened.  
“Yes, of course! Let's hurry.”  
It was only when they were both in position, shielding the king from whatever the danger was they couldn't see, that Percival remembered Agravaine.

Percival had always been suspicious of Agravaine. Percival hadn't always lived in Camelot so he didn't have that instinctive respect toward the nobles that some of the other knights had. When your entire village was murdered by bandits posing as noblemen, you learnt to be suspicious of anyone, especially when real noblemen arrived right after the attack and dismissed it as an “accident”. If not for Arthur and Lancelot, Percival would never have become a knight.  
So, when he met Agravaine with his bright smiles whatever the circumstances, he decided immediately that this man wasn't to be trusted. Well the island had proven him right. After they woke up and Agravaine was the only one standing with his sword in his hands, he had decided that defending Agravaine would be the least of his priorities and had shared his thoughts with Lancelot. It had been hard to convince Lancelot – way too noble for his own good, was Lancelot – but the had come to the conclusion that whether Agravaine was plotting or not, the loss of an advisor couldn't compare to the loss of the king and that if Agravaine was loyal to Uther, he'd gladly sacrifice himself to protect him as the knights would do.  
What Percival hadn't said was that if he was ready to die for Uther, it was really for Arthur. Because Uther was Arthur's father, and Percival knew what it was to lose a father, and for Arthur, he would protect the king with his life.

Agravaine had fallen to the ground while Uther was standing still, not even blinking. Percival could feel the wind getting stronger, disturbing his balance and making it harder to move his sword as he wanted. The knights kept glancing at each other, having no idea what to do. They didn't know how to fight magic, even less so when they couldn't see it. Magic was perhaps the greatest enemy of Camelot, but the knights didn't learn how to fight it because magic was so taboo that they didn't even dare to speak about it, and now, like many other times they had come up against a sorcerer, they were lost. But they were knights of Camelot, Arthur's knights, and they weren't going to admit defeat just yet.

Agravaine had started fighting with... something again, but Uther still wasn't moving. A tear rolled down the king's face, surprising Percival who called him again, but there was still no reply. Then, Uther started walking.  
Whatever danger Uther had seen before, it was either gone or he didn't care anymore. Lancelot raised an eyebrow at Percival.  
“Let's follow him.” Percival whispered to Lancelot, and so they did, leaving Agravaine behind to fight alone against his demons.


	4. PART 3

**Arthur**

“I usually go alone, but you see, it isn't very easy to access. It only grows on the top of that weird rock and it's a real pain to climb. It will be much easier with your help!” Merlin made large gestures with his arms as he talked, probably to help Arthur visualize the rock or something of the kind. Arthur couldn't help but smile. Merlin was so enthusiastic it was getting ridiculous. This was an important mission for god's sake, they should stay serious and focused!  
“What is it for?” Arthur asked, and where had that question come from? He had planned to tell Merlin to stop rambling.  
“Oh, healing, mostly. But it also tastes really good in a soup.”  
“We’re going all this way to make soup?” Arthur knew he probably looked scandalized.  
“Did you not hear the “healing, mostly” part?”  
“Are you implying I’m stupid?”  
“Oh, not just implying.”  
Arthur punched Merlin on the shoulder, holding back because Merlin looked so frail, but it still wasn't enough and Merlin lost his balance which caused him to curse and call Arthur names such as “clotpole” and “dollophead” which Arthur was pretty sure he had just invented.  
“Not my fault.” Arthur said, doing his best to look extremely disdainful. “I'm not used to being surrounded by people...” He made a vague gesture at Merlin. “Like you. All thin and clumsy.”  
“Thin and clumsy?” Merlin replied, sounding outraged. “I'm fine the way I am, thank you very much!”  
“Never said it wasn't fine.” Arthur smiled involuntarily. “Just, not usual for me, that's all.”

The sun was already high in the sky, but Arthur hadn't seen time passing. They had been talking for hours, and despite the constant teasing, he was enjoying himself. The teasing could even be considered the best part because it came naturally with Merlin, but it was never mean. Arthur wouldn't admit it out loud, especially to Merlin, but the fact that he was able to tease Merlin so easily was a proof that they were getting along rather well. As someone who had been taught since he had learned to talk that showing feelings, and worse, talking about feelings, was a proof of weakness, it was one of the only way Arthur knew to show that he cared.

At some point, Arthur asked if Merlin was certain they would be back for dinner. He complained that if they weren't, he would blame it on him, but truly he hoped that they would be away from that bloody cave and its sorcerer for as long as possible. He had a hard time not letting out a relieved sigh when Merlin told him he had taken two blankets with him in case they had to spend the night outside.

Like the day before, they talked and talked and laughed and teased each other, then laughed again and teased some more, and they kept talking about absolutely everything.  
It was Arthur who did most of the talking. He talked about Camelot again, giving Merlin as many details he could remember. He described a knight tourney, and how a suit of armour works, then he described the way people dress depending on their work, and talked about the importance of colours and coats of arms, and all the things Arthur loved but could never talk about because everyone already knew them and no one was curious enough to want to learn the tiny details that made them all so special. Merlin wanted to know all the details, asked things even Arthur didn't know, and all the curiosity, all the enthusiasm that kept growing, gave Arthur the feeling that he was watching a flower blossoming. A very beautiful flower.

“Do you have any friends Arthur?” Merlin asked, some time in the conversation.  
Arthur almost stopped walking, surprised by the suddenness of the question. He took a minute to think about his reply.

“Oh, yes, of course! They are all a bit... strange, but they're very good people. I don't know if I can call them my friends though. It's not a word we use between us. We say “companions” or maybe “comrades”.”

“Really? Why? I always wondered what it was like to have a friend.” Merlin laughed, clearly embarrassed, although Arthur didn't understand why. That seemed like a normal thing to wonder about when you lived in total isolation. Arthur too wondered what some things – some types of relationships were like – the ones he’d never had, growing up with his mother, mostly. He often asked himself how different his relationship with his father would have been if his mother had still been alive, or if he had had more brothers and sisters. He’d always wondered what is was like to be - to be in love. But, contrary to Merlin who only had his books to give him an idea of the outside world, Arthur had seen many people in love, and knew what love looked like on a face. He had tried several time to imagine what life had been – was – like for Merlin, but he knew that no matter how close he got to it, it would never exactly be it. That kind of isolation... He had no idea how Merlin had survived it. Maybe it was easier when you didn't know anything else. Probably.

“It's... a bit complicated.” Arthur replied. “But let me talk to you about them! They're really great men. Like, there's Gwaine. He's a fool, literally. Which is a waste because he's very clever and damn good with a sword, but he keeps saying that he's happy playing the idiot in front of the court which I don't believe at all. He also has a bad habit of spending too much time in the tavern and never spending his nights alone, but no matter what we tell him he seems to be physically unable to settle down. It's already a miracle he's staying in Camelot.”  
“He sounds great. Very fun.”  
“Oh, he is, but don't tell him I told you all that, I would never hear the end of it. I have to keep their respect after all.”  
“Huh?” Merlin's eyes widened.  
“What?” Arthur raised an eyebrow. Merlin had stopped walking and was staring at him, not blinking. “Are you quite alright? You're scaring me. Merlin?”  
“Oh. It's just... I think I worked it out. You're not just some normal peasant, are you?”  
Now it was Arthur's turn to stop still, all colour leaving his face. He swallowed.  
“No.” He said after a short, tense silence. “Not really.”  
“Who are you, Arthur?”  
And it surprised Arthur then, the way Merlin asked, without an ounce of malice, just innocent curiosity. Arthur asked himself again why he had kept his identity from Merlin, and after having been with him for many hours again, finally realized that there was no reason to keep lying. He didn't like doing it anyway, and he had a feeling about Merlin, he just knew that Merlin wasn't going to hurt him. It was hard to explain, but since he had met Merlin, he hadn't been able to act suspicious with him, no matter how much he wanted to. There was a familiarity, something that had made it easy to bond with Merlin and Arthur couldn't imagine that it wasn't mutual. So he took a deep breath, and...  
“My name is Arthur Pendragon, son of King Uther Pendragon, heir to the throne of Camelot.”  
Then, he closed his eyes, and waited for Merlin's reaction.

“You're a PRINCE?” Merlin yelled, sounding... Amazed?  
“...what?”  
If there's one reaction Arthur hadn't been expecting, it was that one. Merlin's eyes were shining and he was an expression of total awe on his face.  
“Oh my god.” Merlin's face changed, and for a moment there were a dozen different emotions on it before it fixed on stunned. “I can't believe you didn't tell me!”  
“Oi! I had reasons. You can't blame me for not trusting you!”  
“I'd never hurt you!”  
“How was I supposed to know that?”  
Merlin sighed.  
“No, wait, you know what? I'd totally hurt you, if hurting your enormous ego counts.”  
“How--”  
“Although everything makes sense now! Everything you know, your gigantic ego, and there's the way you talk...”  
Now, Arthur was getting angry. What was Merlin's problem? He just told him he was a Prince, that wasn't the appropriate reaction at all! He was supposed to be angry, or to attack with the magic Arthur still had no proof he possessed. Not just... Keep talking to him like he did before the big revelation. People just didn't do that. But then again, Merlin had proved several time that he wasn't 'people'. Maybe the person Arthur was truly angry at was himself. He should have trusted Merlin sooner.  
“What is wrong with the way I talk?” He asked, burying the thoughts deep in his mind. Merlin didn't need to know all those, not yet.  
“Like you're important. Which you are, I guess, so it makes sense. See, like that.” Merlin said, trying to imitate Arthur's royal accent and failing miserably.  
“I do not speak like that!”  
“Yes you do, my lord.” And Merlin bowed.  
He bowed, and Arthur was fuming but then, he found himself caught by the back of Merlin's head, the curve of his neck, the contrast of his dark hair against his pale skin, and oh god. Arthur wanted to run his finger in this hair. It look so soft, all curly and shiny and –  
“In Camelot, I would have you sent to the stocks, just for your information.” He swallowed hard. Thankfully, Merlin broke out laughing, so Arthur was certain that he hadn't noticed his embarrassment, and the way his eyes kept glancing at his neck. And at his smile.

Arthur didn't know when he started laughing with Merlin, but here he was, laughing like he didn't have a care in the world, and for a minute it was true, and it felt wonderful.  
When they finally calmed down enough to be able to continue to walk, they went, but they kept chuckling for a while until a comfortable silence settled.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier,” Arthur said as they sat down in a small clearing to eat. It was the first words either of them had said in the past hour, which was the time it had taken for Arthur to find the courage to say them.  
“No need to apologize, it's fine.” Merlin smiled. “I understand why you did it. It was safer for you.”  
Arthur shook his head.  
“No, no it's not just that. It's... promise you will keep this to yourself, or I will really send you to the stocks. I'll built one myself if needed, you know I will do it.”  
“All right, yes, of course I'll keep it to myself, who would I tell anyway?” Merlin chuckled.  
They were sitting next to each other on a fallen tree, so Arthur couldn't see Merlin's face unless he turned in a very obvious manner. He took a piece of bread and took a bite before continuing.  
“For once, I had the possibility to be... Normal. To be just me, not to have to pretend to be all... noble and princely all the time. To not be my father's son.”  
There was a pause during which Arthur had a hard time breathing until Merlin said “And?”  
“And what?” Arthur raised an eyebrow. What was Merlin going on about again.  
“And I'm not sure I understand. Did you think I would change my attitude once I knew you are a prince? Well except the fact that you are a _prince_ , holy crap, but here, it doesn't change anything. This island is not subject to the same laws as the rest of the world.”  
“I get it now, and most people do treat me differently.” Arthur sighed. “Don't get me wrong, I know I am lucky to be a prince, but it can get a bit overwhelming. And I do love and respect my father, but too often people forget that we are two separate people and that our opinions can differ.”  
“Like, your opinions on magic?”  
Arthur swallowed.  
“Yes.”  
“What is it then?” Merlin asked, with the same bright, curious eyes that made all of Arthur's defences break. There was something about Merlin that made Arthur trust him, even if he knew he shouldn't. Trust was something to be earned, especially Arthur's trust. Being a prince, he couldn't just spill the content of his mind at the slightest thing.  
“I-- I don't know. My father's war against magic... It's not mine.”  
“But... Your mother?” Merlin asked with a small voice.  
“I know my mother died in childbirth and that magic was involved, which is something I am not supposed to know. My father hid this fact from me and-- I don't know the details. I can't make a fair judgement without knowing all the facts. What I've been taught, what I've seen, sometimes it's so contradictory, it's very confusing. The thing is, when thinking that magic is evil is the only opinion I was ever allowed to have, how can I have any other? Even if I want to change, I don't know where to start.”

Arthur sighed. He had said too much, shown too much vulnerability, but once he had started he hadn't been able to stop. He put his head in his hands. What was he doing?

“I could show you, if you want.” Merlin said after a moment of hesitation.  
“What?”  
“That magic isn't evil. That it can be beautiful.”  
Arthur raised his head and stared at Merlin. Merlin was looking away, his cheeks were red, his hands were twitching and he seemed really anxious. Tentatively, Arthur reached for Merlin's arm, putting his hand on it carefully, trying for the gesture to be reassuring. He was a bit angry; after what he had just told Merlin, he should trust him too! But at that moment, Merlin looked so ready to close off that Arthur didn't want to take any risk, so he said as gently as he could:  
“So you are a sorcerer too?”  
Merlin nodded and a small laugh escaped him.  
“I'm Kilgharrah's apprentice, what else could I be?”  
“Right. I guessed so.”  
“You did?” Merlin said loudly. “Why didn't you say anything?”  
“For the same reason I didn't tell you about my royal father. And because I was waiting for proof. Thankfully you told me or I would have been forced to make you do magic which would have been very tiring.”  
“Hey!” Merlin moved his arm away from Arthur's hand that had still been resting on it. “And for a moment, I thought you were actually nice and caring, but no, you're still your usual prat.”  
“Merlin, I'm a _prince_ , remember.”  
“Yes, sure. Prat.” Merlin rolled his eyes. “So... What about the, uh, magic tricks?”  
“Oh, right, that's a good idea. I'd like if you could show me some.”  
Merlin's entire face lightened and Arthur had to force himself to look away from the bright smile.  
“Not now though.” He continued. “We've already taken a long enough break. We need to keep going.”  
It's only when they had left the clearing and were already walking at a quick pace that Arthur realized that he had been smiling too.  

**Morgana.**

Morgana woke up holding Gwen against her. The familiarity was strange but not uncomfortable. She smiled when Gwen woke up too and started blushing and stammering when she realized how close to Morgana she was. Morgana, still smiling, curled up against her and closed her eyes again. They didn't have any time to lose, but for a minute or two she could allow herself that moment of relief. Here, against Gwen, she felt safe. She wished she could stay there, away from all her troubles, could allow herself to forget all her mistakes. She had thought about playing dead and staying on the island, free, but she had responsibilities and she knew better than to ignore them. She had made mistakes, huge, very huge mistakes, when she was young and scared and confused, and now it was up to her older self to do the right thing. All the plotting, all the death, all the lies, even if it was for the greater good, was it worth it?  
From the moment she had decided to take down Uther, Morgana had known that she was going to get blood on her hands, that she was probably going to lose herself. She had accepted it willingly, because it meant thousands of people would be free. She didn't know when she had started to lose sight of her goal.  
Oh wait.  
She knew.  
Agravaine. Of course it was Agravaine's fault, partially at least. How he knew about her powers, she had no idea, but when he proved himself to be trustworthy, taking the decision to work with him had been easy. They didn't always agree on the details, but they had the same goal : Free Camelot of Uther's tyranny and get rid of the law against magic.

Agravaine was supposed to work for her, so in the short term it didn't matter that he didn't believe in Arthur like her. Plans for the succession would come once Uther was dead, she had thought. It had been her first big mistake. She had learned since then that Agravaine never planned short term. He wanted her on the throne, which she wouldn't mind that much if it didn't mean she had to either kill Arthur or marry him. Now, she would have said no to that even before knowing he was a brother, god just the thought of having to be close to him _like that_ made her feel nauseous. It was just wrong!  
The point was, she realized too late that Agravaine was taking her too far, twisting her to his needs, and the worse was that she had let him.  
She shivered.  
What would Gwen think if she learned about it? She would be horrified, certainly. Not that Morgana had magic, but that she could be so... Evil.

Thankfully for Morgana, they didn't have the time for explanations at the moment. First, she needed to stop Agravaine. He was going to kill Uther, she had seen it in a dream. She was used to it now as visions of all kinds were the first magical thing that had happened to her. For years she thought they were nightmares, but after a while she realized they were becoming clearer and that some happened for real. After that, she hadn't talked to anyone about her dreams. Uther's ward or not, she would have been executed, or if she was lucky, exiled.  
She had been alone since then, trying to understand her powers, to control them, until Agravaine came. The man didn't have an ounce of magic in him but he knew things about the years before the purge, where to find books, people... Still, except for the visions that were strong but often confusing, her magic was weak, even more since it was so untrained. And the visions, this time, had been particularly clear.

She had seen everything, from Agravaine to Uther to the knights accompanying them, and she had been inside Agravaine's head and she had seen his plan, she had seen what could happen, the blood, the death, Agravaine's madness taking over him, changing him into a merciless killer-- no, she couldn't allow herself to relive that or she wouldn't be able to get to him, too sick and scared to even move.

Morgana was trying hard not to shake when Gwen finally moved away from her.  
“My- Morgana, we're in a hurry, you said so yourself, so I'm going to try to find some fruits to eat and we can get going.”  
The sound of her sweet voice helped Morgana to calm herself, but even after Gwen came back with colourful fruits, she stayed silent. Her mind was rushing with thoughts and she was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she wouldn't be able to control what she said. One thing was certain, that moment of peace she had felt when she had just woken up was completely gone.  
“I changed my mind.” She said with a shaking voice. “We shouldn't go there. We should... We should hide somewhere and w-wait and maybe--” Her voice broke on the last word and immediately, Gwen was next to her, holding her hands in hers and looking at her with worried eyes.  
“Morgana, what is wrong?”  
“I-- I just...” She couldn't explain. She couldn't tell Gwen about the vision because it would mean telling her everything. She wanted to though, finally to talk freely about herself to someone, anyone, without having to fear the consequences. She had dreamed of it, being accepted, understood and still loved after she had spilled her secrets. If only...  
She swallowed hard which made her dry throat hurt, but still she did her best to speak with a strong, clear voice.  
“Agravaine is going to kill everyone.” Her voice wasn't shaking anymore but it was still weaker than she would have liked.  
“Are you certain?” Gwen asked, obviously trying not to rush Morgana.  
“Yes.” Morgana took a deep breath. “I know he plans to kill Uther, but he is becoming mad and he won't stop there.”  
“How- How do you know? Why would he do that? He's Uther's advisor!” Gwen was losing her calm and started to look worried which was a sight Morgana didn't like at all.  
“He... He told me.”  
“Huh?”  
Gwen's eyes widened. They were still bright and beautiful and so, oh so trusting, they made Morgana lower all her defences. She had been right, she shouldn't have started to talk, because now she couldn't stop. She had to tell Gwen. If Gwen didn't forgive her, no one would, and she would be better off alone on that island forever. She had to try, no matter how much she had been trying to avoid it, it was evident now that it was the right thing to do.

“Agravaine is a stupid man.” She started. “He always craved power, and he doesn't always agree with Uther... And...” Could she really say it? Suddenly, she wasn't sure anymore.  
“Morgana.”  
Morgana blinked. Gwen's voice was even sweeter than usual, a soothing sound to her ears.  
“It's fine. I will listen, I won't leave you, OK?”  
Morgana nodded and continued.  
“The laws on magic. He doesn't agree with it. Like... Like me.” She took a deep breath and waited.  
There was a long silence during which Morgana felt sweat rolling down her back. Gwen's face was stuck in an expression of pure astonishment.  
“You helped him.” She said. “You... Plotted against the king.”  
Morgana simply nodded.  
“Why?”  
“At first, it was because of the injustice. Even when I was a child, I used to fight Uther each time there was an execution.” She smiled at the memory, a small bitter smile. At that time, she thought that if she yelled loud enough Uther would listen to her. She didn't know yet that the king had a heart and a mind of stone. “Then... It became a question of survival.”

Gwen stayed silent, waiting, and it took Morgana a minute to decide that after telling this much, it wouldn't hurt a lot more to tell the rest. A half truth could be more confusing than all lies.  
“It's my nightmares. It's how I know exactly what Agravaine is doing, where he is. I.. I see the present, the past, the future. I have magic, Gwen. I'm a seer.”  
Gwen gaped.  
“This explains so much. You are a sorceress. Oh dear me... I was so scared!”  
Gwen sounded so relieved it was Morgana's turn to gape.  
“Scared?”  
“I thought that you were dying of some illness that caused the nightmares.” Gwen replied, shaking with relief. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't react like that!” She added quickly.  
“No, it's fine.” Morgana said, dumbfounded.  
“No, really, I'm sorry.” Gwen breathed deeply to regain her composure. “I'm not as surprised as I thought I'd be. I think... I already knew, or I suspected at least, but Morgana, you know my stand on magic. I would never... Never judge you... Or leave you because of that. And I understand why you kept it secret. And it's a secret safe with me.”  
Gwen sounded so earnest it made Morgana cry, hard and loud, tears rolling down her cheeks. Gwen shyly put her hands on Morgana's shoulder, but as Morgana kept crying, she moved forward and after a short moment of hesitation, she pulled Morgana against her and held her. Morgana immediately took a hold of Gwen's dress and put her forehead on Gwen's shoulder, letting herself be comforted like she needed. It felt so good, such a relief to finally let go, she wanted to scream, and she never wanted to let Gwen go.  
Thankfully, Gwen was holding her tightly, like she was precious and fragile, and had started muttering “There, there, I'm here, it's all fine. I understand, I understand everything and it doesn't change a thing.” When Morgana finally raised her head a little, Gwen dropped a small kiss on her forehead.  
Morgana, her arms laced around Gwen's waist, straightened up a bit. Gwen was smiling softly and the last tear left Morgana's eyes. Her nose hit Gwen's and then... It was just easy and natural to move forward and brush her lips against Gwen's. Gwen let out a small surprised sound but didn't move away. Instead, she tightened her hold on Morgana who was smiling too because yes! Yes! This was right, it was perfect and maybe, everything would end fine. She pressed her lips against Gwen's harder, and in a blink they were kissing passionately, gasping and breathing against each other's mouth and moaning and tasting each other like it was the last time they could ever do it, both pouring their emotions into the kiss. And as they kissed, Morgana realized that she had never felt more free.

**Gwaine**

The deeper they got into the forest, the stranger Gwaine felt, but now he knew it wasn't because of the forest. It was Mordred. First, he had this weird feeling that the child was always watching him, even if Gwaine was away from him. Then, there was something in his guts that told him that he was dangerous, _really_ dangerous. Showing any sign of doubt or even thinking about betraying him seemed like a bad idea, which was why Gwaine had decided that the safest thing to do was to follow him in silence until he found a way to get away from him for real and talk seriously with Leon.  
Of course, that worked for around fifteen minutes only, which was already a record, because Gwaine wasn't used to staying silent for more than two minutes at most. So, because he was frustrated and bored, after fifteen minutes of complete silence, he started singing. Gwaine was actually a good singer, even when he was drunk. Unfortunately, most of the songs he knew weren't suitable for a child to hear which, as expected, made Leon angry.  
“Show a bit of decency!” Leon yelled at him. Gwaine pouted and started changing all the dirty words to animals and creatures names, such as dragon, kitten, and crow among others. Hopefully, Leon would get the message.  
“He's silly.” Leon said to Mordred. “Don't listen to him.”  
Mordred's expression was as neutral as before, but he gave a small nod.  
“Gwaine. If you continue, it will start to rain and I don't want that. If we meet another storm, I will blame you.”  
“Spoilsport!”

Gwaine almost let out a sigh of relief when he noticed that Mordred hadn't reacted to their little banter. He couldn't have any idea who and what the animals names meant, Gwaine was sure of it. And even if for some magical reason he knew about the knights' various codes, he couldn't know that Gwaine wasn't just a fool. Even if in Camelot Gwaine didn't follow the knight's training seriously, he had an education before, and most codes had the same basics. There was a reason he already knew how to use it when he arrived in Camelot after all.

It was one of the reasons that Arthur was so angry that Gwaine wouldn't become a knight, because contrary to Lancelot or Percival, Arthur wouldn't have to fight his father for him since Gwaine was actually a noble. Not an important one, or even a rich one, but his father had a title and land and enough money to find him good teachers for sword-fighting. Only, his father had expectations for Gwaine that he didn't liked much and as soon as he came of age, after many, many fight with the old man, he ran away and started living the life as he wanted, free and away from the wars.  
He travelled a lot before meeting knights of Camelot on the road and helping them fight some bandits. He followed them at their invitation to the city and never left. It was, in his opinion, one of the best and worst decisions he had ever made. As he got to know Arthur and the knights, he found what he had never expected: friends, and a man he could trust and would follow to his death. Only, agreeing to be a knight and wearing Camelot's red would break all the promises he had made to himself. He would lose the freedom he had fought so hard to gain, but he was starting to suspect that for Arthur, maybe, it'd be worth it.

There was a point, however, on which he was very different from anyone in Camelot. His father's lands were on the borders of Mercia and Camelot, and the village they controlled was crossed by many travellers, including druids and sorcerers. His father even had a sorcerer occasionally work with him, and fools at the feasts often used magic tricks. Nothing impressive, but even if he had been taught about Camelot's laws, he had grown up surrounded by magic of all sorts, and he knew that everything Uther was saying was bullshit. Sure, magic could be evil or dangerous – he had seen Mercia's war sorcerers once and it was a sight he hoped to never meet again – but that was the same as everything. A sword was evil in the hands of an evil man, and it was the same with magic. Magic could be harmless, funny, or even beautiful.  
That was why he hadn't been afraid of the mysterious spirit woman he had seen. Magic wasn't something to over think. It was something natural, that always existed, it was part of the earth and even if it could trick you, following your instinct regarding it was very, very often the best thing to do.  
And his instinct was now screaming at him that Mordred was evil, and very probably magic, because there was no way those creepy pale eyes were human.

No matter what they found at the end of their journey, if there was a side to take, Gwaine would take Arthur's. Because Arthur was alive, that was another thing his instinct was screaming to him. And they would find him, Gwaine knew it. He, and Leon, and any of the other knights if they survived too, they would get no rest until they found Arthur alive or absolute proof that he was dead.

“Leoooon!” Gwaine whined, out of silly songs to sing. “Are we there yet? I'm bored!”  
Leon sighed and opened his mouth to speak but was stopped by Mordred.  
“Shush.” The boy whispered. “We're almost there.”  
Gwaine let out a “Ahaah!” and received one of Mordred's deadliest glares.  
“Be on your guard.” Mordred said.  
Immediately, both Leon and Gwaine put their hands on their weapons and started observing their surroundings with more attention.  
Finally, they were going to know what game Mordred was playing.  
They walked grouped, Leon in the front, Gwaine behind, swords raised, following a path that was becoming larger and larger until they found themselves out of the forest and in front of a very huge cave: very dark, and definitely full of dangers.

 

 

**Arthur**

“We're almost there.” Merlin said. Arthur let out a relieved sigh. They had been walking for hours on a rocky rising road and his feet were starting to hurt. The sky had darkened over them and the air was getting heavier. It could only be a matter of minutes now before it started raining, but it was evident that it would only be a thin rain that would cool the island. Arthur would welcome it with open arms. He felt hot and sweaty and some tropical rain now would be perfect.  
Merlin and he had been talking almost constantly as they were walking, which was why Arthur didn't notice immediately when the scenery changed dramatically. All his attention was on Merlin, and when he became conscious of it, he had to stop himself from gasping out loud. It wasn't like him not to pay attention to his environment, especially in a unknown, potentially dangerous place.  
But there was something about Merlin that captivated Arthur. Talking to him was nice. Merlin was nice, and Arthur was starting to really like him; something he wasn't going to admit to Merlin of course, half their conversations ended in bickering but it was never truly mean, more like teasing.

It was a bit confusing for Arthur, how easy it was to like and trust Merlin, despite everything he knew about him. (He was a sorcerer, for god's sake! Arthur should despise him!) Everyone in Arthur's entourage could confirm that Arthur didn't give his friendship easily, and his trust even less, but Merlin... Merlin was wonderful. He was funny, curious, clever, innocent in a way Arthur didn't think possible but not naïve or stupid, he smiled way too brightly and each time their arms brushed when they walked a bit too close next to each other, it sent shivers down Arthur's spine.

So, the scenery had changed, and now Arthur was observing it warily. There were fewer trees, less grass and lots of bushes. The ground was made of clay and not so far in front of them there were rocks and a cliff.  
“The plant's up there.” Merlin said, nodding toward the cliff.  
It was straight and looked quite smooth from afar. It wasn't going to be easy to climb. Arthur frowned.  
“How did you even manage to cllimb that on your own?”  
Merlin raised an eyebrow and Arthur immediately realized the stupidity of his question. Magic, of course.  
“Then why do you need me?” Arthur asked, starting to feel really confused. The purpose of their journey had been the one thing they hadn't talked about during all those hours they spent walking.  
“I mean if you could use-WOW!”  
There was one root in the middle of they way and of course, Arthur had to catch his feet in it. He felt himself losing his balance, saw the bush full of thorns next to him and knew that he was going to fall in it. He braced himself for the pain, silently blaming Merlin for his inattention and... Nothing.  
He blinked a few times to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating, but no, he was really floating right over the bush. In front of him there was Merlin, arm raised toward him, palm open, eyes shining golden.  
“You idiot!” Merlin yelled. “Look where you’re going! You could have got hurt.”  
Arthur swallowed hard.  
“O-ok, I'm fine now.” He said, his voice shaky. “You can put me down.”  
Merlin moved his arm slowly, and Arthur moved with it. Once he was not over the bush anymore, Merlin let his arm fall to his side and Arthur fell on the ground. He stood up, brushing the dust off his clothes and stared at Merlin. Merlin walked straight to him and put his hands on Arthur's chest, as if to make sure that it wasn't hurt. Arthur felt his cheeks heating from such sudden contact.  
“I'm fine, Merlin.” He repeated, trying to sound reassuring. It was nothing, really! Even if Merlin hadn't caught him, he would have had a few scratches and bruises but nothing more.  
He was silent for a few seconds, his hands still on Arthur's chest until he said “Be more careful.” and walked away, as if he hadn't just used magic in front of – on, actually – Arthur.

It took a moment for Arthur to come back to his right mind and follow Merlin. That had been weird. He was feeling weird. Merlin had just used magic on him, and if it had been surprising, it hadn't been scary. Plus – and it was something that made Arthur want to hit his head against a flat surface several times and hard – he couldn't help but focus more on the lingering feeling of Merlin's hands on his chest than the magic. He really, really had a serious problem. A Merlin problem.  
He sighed and finally caught up with Merlin.  
He tried to sound casual as he smiled and asked : “So, how do we get this plant?”

**Leon.**

Leon pushed Mordred behind him when they entered the cave. As soon as they set foot inside it, they found themselves in almost complete darkness. The sun was shining just behind them but it was like there was a dark veil just at the entrance of the cave that stopped the light from coming inside the cave. Leon blinked several times, trying to adjust his eyesight to the obscurity. He made a sign at Gwaine who was doing the same thing.  
The cave seemed huge, from what they could see. On each side, there were stairs, boxes and piles of books. It was obviously lived in. Leon gestured at Gwaine to move forward, careful not to lose his grip on his sword. He could feel Mordred following them closely.

As they got deeper inside the cave, the darkness became total, but what was more oppressing was the complete silence. Outside of their own footsteps and breathing, there wasn't a sound in the cave. At some point, they had to stop because they really couldn't see where they were going anymore. They had looked for something to make fire before going in deeper, but they hadn't found anything, and the idea to just wait was too silly to even cross their minds.  
Gwaine had a hand on Leon's arm, and Leon could feel Mordred's tiny hands holding onto his shirt.  
“Gwaine...” Leon started, and as if it had been waiting for a signal, that's when there was an explosion and the hounds appeared.

The explosion was only a few feet away from them and it was huge, blinding them momentarily. There was a giant fire, and in front of it, there was three hounds. Made of fire. Of course. He groaned, and as if the monsters had been waiting for another signal, they jumped toward them.

“Gwaine!” Leon called at the top of his lungs. There was a hound on him, currently biting on his sword instead of on his head, but Leon wasn't going to be able to hold it back longer. He turned his head quickly to see Gwaine fighting the two other hounds. One was biting Gwaine's arm, and the other trying to attack his leg. Thanks to Leon's training as a knight, this short moment of inattention didn't cause him to lower his defences, but holding the hound back was starting to hurt. He moved, trying to pierce the hound's neck with his sword, but since they were made of fire there was nothing to pierce and swords seemed to be useless against them. They would gladly surrender or run away, but even if they could hold the hounds off long enough Leon couldn’t see a trace of the entrance, probably another magic trick. Everything was darkness except the hounds, bloody magical monsters. Not only did they bite and claw but they also burned. If he survived that, Leon was going to write the longest report he would ever write, and damned be the king's stance on magic. The knights needed to learn how to fight magical threats!  
“Gwaine!” He called again, and looked around some more to find a possible escape. Then, he noticed what had been off since they had started fighting and called louder. “Gwaine! Where is Mordred?”

**Gwaine.**

Gwaine heard Leon, or thought he did. His head was pounding and everything was blurry. The monsters were still on him, and one had his teeth deep in his left arm. He wouldn't be surprised if the creature actually ate it. Was this how he was going to die? If he hadn't been in pain and blinded by the fire emanating from the hounds, he would have laughed. He had always said that the best way to die was old, in a comfortable bed, surrounded by beautiful young people and lots of wine, but he knew, deeply, that what he had really hoped for was a great death, one that could be remembered. One that would allow him to forgive himself for running away from his responsibilities and make him feel like he was who he was truly destined to be, one of Arthur's knights.

He braced himself for more pain and... Nothing. In a blink, the hounds disappeared, leaving only traces of smoke where they had been. Gwaine fell on the ground. He had lost a lot of blood and the world was getting darker by the second. Leon's voice resonated in his head and again, he wasn't sure if it was real, but he shook his head and tried to get up to see to his friend.  
He took a few deep breaths until the world was clear enough for him to stand up. It was still very dark in the cave so he didn't really know where he was going, but he followed the sound of Leon's heavy breathing and he was at his side faster than he thought he'd be.  
“Are you alright?” He asked, voice low and broken.  
“I'm not fatally wounded but my leg...” Leon was on the ground and couldn't stand up.  
Gwaine sighed. A leg wound here was going to be a huge problem. If Leon couldn't walk, Gwaine wouldn't be able to carry him until his arm was healed. They needed light to see how badly he was hurt, and quick.  
“Well my arm is hurt but I can walk just fine. Come on, let's get out of here.” And on those words he grabbed Leon by the shoulder with his fine arm and got him up. Once they were settled, Gwaine holding Leon with his right arm and Leon holding himself on Gwaine with one arm over his shoulders, Gwaine made them turn and started looking around in the darkness.  
“So where's the exit?” He said more cheerfully than he really felt. God Leon was heavy! And his arm hurt like hell, he hoped he wasn't still losing blood.  
Then, in a blink, exactly like when the hounds had disappeared, the cave lit up.

They closed their eyes just in time not to be blinded by the sudden brightness. When they opened them again, they both let out a gasp of surprise. The cave was... Not what they expected. It was big, yes, but there was nothing evil about the place, nothing that let out that it was the home of a sorcerer. It almost looked cosy.  
Every object, every piece of furniture looked handmade, there were boxes and jars full of herbs everywhere, and so many books... It was obviously lived in.

They were too busy staring at the place to hear the footstep coming toward them until someone was standing next to them.  
“Welcome, knights of Camelot.” A voice said.  
If Gwaine hadn't been holding Leon he would have jumped in surprise. He reached for his sword he had carefully put back on his belt earlier but when he tried to touch the handle, it burned.  
“No need for that.” The voice said. “You are safe now.”  
Gwaine stared. The voice came from an old man - way too old to stand so straight and look so strong- in a large robe and holding a staff. A _magical_ staff, if the bright blue light coming from its top was any clue.  
“Who are you?” Leon asked before Gwaine could open his mouth.  
The sorcerer laughed.  
“You know who I am. Or at least what my role is. But I shall give you my name as a sign of trust. I am Kilgharrah, master of this island, and I present you my apologies. I never intended you to get hurt.”

It was Gwaine's turn to laugh then. Really? If this man thought that they were going to trust him just like that after being almost killed by his magic, he was dreaming. Of course, since Gwaine was, well, _Gwaine_ , he said exactly that out loud.  
“I never expected you to give your trust so easily, sir Gwaine.” Kilgharrah smiled.  
“How- How do you know my name?” Gwaine gaped.  
“As I said, I am the master of the island, I know everything that happens here.”  
It took a second for Gwaine to realize what it meant, and when he did, his mind was racing so fast he didn't know what to say. The sorcerer's smile widened.  
“Yes, sir Gwaine. I see that you understand. Now,” He said while gesturing to the back of the cave. “if you would follow me, I can heal you, feed you, give you a place to rest, and when you are ready you can get what you want.”  
Gwaine turned his eyes to the ground, his head almost hurting with being so full of questions, but in their state, there was nothing more they could do than trust the sorcerer. They couldn't fight, and they needed what he proposed desperately. Plus, he had what they had been looking for since they had arrived in the island, the one thing Gwaine was ready to put himself in any situation for. _Answers_.


	5. PART 4

**Gwen**

Saying Gwen didn’t enjoy being kissed would have been an enormous lie. The kissing--especially when it was with Morgana--was _amazing_ ; better than in any of Gwen's wildest dreams. In fact, Gwen wished the kissing would never stop! This was especially true when the kissing wasn't happening, because then there was a distinct tension between Morgana and her. Morgana radiated so much guilt that it hung in the air and made Gwen sick to her stomach.  
Because she had been Morgana's maid for so long, Gwen recognized all her mistress’ little quirks, saw the emotions behind the mask that she, as a noblewoman, had been forced to wear since her childhood. And at that moment, in the forest on this island in the middle of nowhere, Gwen could feel Morgana's guilt hover around them. Despite knowing it that it was there for a good reason, it didn’t stop her chest from tightening.

There would be a time for redemption, a time for forgiveness – for others to forgive Morgana, but also for Morgana to forgive herself. People would accept that fear made them act illogically, not at all like themselves; that sometimes survival pushed people to extremes they never believed they could reach. But it wasn't that time yet. Their priority at the moment was to survive their trials on the island and to get out this situation alive.  
.As difficult as it was for Gwen to see someone she cared so much for in such a state of distress, she knew she had to keep her wits about her. She couldn't let herself fall into the same state...because then who would keep them both safe until they were back home again?

She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep, calming breath before taking Morgana's hand in hers. They had just started walking again and an uncomfortable silence hovered between them, as if each were about to speak, but neither ever started. Morgana looked at her hand, nestled so softly in Gwen’s and then smiled shyly.  
“Let's just go where we're supposed to go, all right?” Gwen asked softly.  
Morgana nodded.  
With all the kissing and worrying, they had almost forgotten about the Agravaine problem. They needed to keep walking or else they would arrive too late and then... Morgana would probably never forgive herself, which was something that Gwen wasn't willing to let happen.

They walked along for a while in a more natural and comfortable silence. The scenery changed drastically the more that they walked. And then suddenly, Morgana stopped walking. Curious, Gwen looked at her surroundings, but there was nothing special that she could see, only more rocks and bushes than trees.  
“What is it?” She asked.  
“Look.” Morgana said simply and pulled at Gwen’s hand to turn her slightly.  
Gwen had to concentrate hard to see anything different, but after a minute she finally noticed it. Not far away there was a cliff, and on the cliff was what looked like the entrance to a cave. She gasped in surprise.  
“Do you think they're here?”  
Morgana shook her head. “But there's something there. I can feel an energy.”  
“Magic.”  
Morgana paused before finally saying,“Yes.”  
“Should we go? Is it safe?” Gwen tightened her hold on Morgana's hand.  
“I don't know, but it's like... It's calling me. I think we should go. I don't feel any animosity in the magic.”  
“I trust your judgement.”  
Morgana seemed surprised by Gwen's answer, but her face quickly changed into a smile and she dropped a light kiss on Gwen's lips. Gwen immediately felt her cheeks reddening, but she smiled too and together they walked toward the cave.

 

 

**Arthur**

Getting the plant had been easier than Arthur had expected. The rock wasn't as smooth as it had looked from afar and it had been pretty easy to climb – at least had been for _Arthur_ , since clumsiness seemed to be Merlin’s constant state of being. But still, in approximately an hour they were done and ready to go back. Merlin said that if they didn't take too many breaks on the way, they shouldn't have to sleep outside. As much as Arthur wanted to stay away from Kilgharrah, he had to admit that after a day of walking and climbing and eating fruits, he liked the idea of sleeping under a roof too much to care about that damn sorcerer!

They walked at a firm pace and talked easily, which Arthur found quite nice, however, no break also meant that Merlin hadn't had the time to demonstrate his magic properly. He hoped that once they were back at the cave, they'd find a moment away from Kilgharrah so that Merlin could show him. Arthur had to admit he was burning with anticipation. Sure, he was afraid, but he was also curious. He was starting to accept that he really trusted Merlin, despite how irrational it was to feel that way..

They were so preoccupied with their chat that the sun went down without them realizing it. They ate while walking, trying to make up time. Arthur was still certain that they could make it to the cave before it got really late, at least until Merlin finally declared that he had to stop immediately.  
“Unless you want me to pass out from exhaustion, I have to sleep a bit before we continue.”  
Arthur pretended to be annoyed, but in truth, he was also tired and wasn't going to say no to a real break. They found some fresh grass under a large tree and Arthur piled some dry wood to make a small fire.  
“Do you need to sleep?” Merlin asked him.  
Arthur shook his head. He _was_ tired but he had gone longer without sleeping in the past. He just needed to rest his legs a little before moving on.  
“Fine. Wake me up in an hour, then.”  
And on those words, Merlin crawled on the ground next to the fire and closed his eyes. Arthur sat there and listened to Merlin's calm breathing, wondering not for the first time what the hell he was doing.

It didn't take long for Arthur's mind to drift to his father. He couldn't imagine his father dead; he just couldn't. Uther had always seemed to be invincible in the eyes of his young son, and even as Arthur grew up and came to see the flaws in the man, it had still seemed that his father could get out of anything unharmed. But somehow, this time it didn’t feel like that. Instead, there was a weight in his stomach every time he thought of Uther, an irrational feeling of imminent doom that just wouldn't go away. Something bad was going to happen; Arthur felt it. That was, if it hadn't already happened.  
Worst of all, Arthur knew that even if Uther were still alive--even if they both got back to Camelot safely--their relationship wouldn't be the same. Arthur wouldn't be able to restrain himself from confronting his father, especially on the topic of magic. How could he possibly let magic users be discriminated against when he had met someone like Merlin?

As he thought about Merlin, Arthur’s eyes strayed from the fire to study his companion, only to discover that he was shaking. He immediately stood up to put more wood on the fire and knelt next to Merlin while he revived the flames. Then, it struck him. The light from the fire made shadows dance on Merlin's skin. His eyelashes seemed even longer and his lips were slightly parted. His hair, where it wasn't shining, was even darker than usual. In the night, illuminated by the fire, he looked truly _beautiful_ , almost surreal. The shadows made his features look sharper, more mature, almost...wise. Arthur had to brush his fingers against Merlin's cheek to make sure that he wasn't an illusion. He was beautiful and Arthur wanted to hold him against him and never let him go.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Arthur stood up and stepped away. No, he couldn't... This was wrong. It was dangerous; he couldn't allow it. This wasn't a mere crush or physical attraction anymore – those were things he could deal with perfectly as he had in the past. No, Arthur was starting to fall for Merlin...and fall _hard_. And...wasn't that bloody ridiculous? How long had it been…two days? Allowing himself to befriend Merlin, a total stranger--a sorcerer--was foolish enough. But anything more than that was just plain stupid and dangerous.  
Even if Arthur _did_ allow something to happen, and if by some miracle Merlin reciprocated his feelings, Arthur would still have to go back to Camelot. If Uther really was dead, then he would have to take over as king, and with that would go certain responsibilities. He would have to find a wife, probably a princess from another kingdom, and have many children. For the sake of Camelot, and that was something he had learnt young, he couldn't fall in love with a man. He just couldn’t...and especially not _Mer_ lin!

He had to get away from Merlin _quickly_... before this attachment became what it shouldn't be. The next morning, he would talk to Kilgharrah. He needed to look for his father and find a way to get back to Camelot, no matter _what_ the sorcerer wanted. As lovely as this diversion was, it was going to be all over soon.

Arthur had managed to calm his thoughts a little and stop blushing like a teenaged girl every time he looked at Merlin by the time the younger man awoke. Very soon, Merlin was up and they were walking again, and two hours later they could just make out the cave in the distance.  
“I hope Kilgharrah doesn't expect us to treat the herbs tonight too, because the only thing I feel capable of right now is sleeping.” Merlin mumbled wearily.  
“You already slept, you lazy arse. If anyone should be complaining here it's me!”  
“It's my home, I can complain all I want!”  
“Merlin, don't even try; you know you're wrong.”  
“Oh my Gods,” Merlin said as he pushed the cave's door open. “You really are a spoilt brat, aren't you?”  
“Merlin, should I remind you that--”  
Arthur blinked. And blinked again. And then he gaped. There, in the cave, sitting comfortably on the wooden chairs next to Kilgharrah and drinking what smelled like tea, were Leon and Gwaine.  
“What?” Arthur gasped, his voice tight.  
Gwaine's face lightened up in recognition. “Arthur!”

 

 

**Merlin**

Merlin couldn't have explained why his chest tightened up when he saw Arthur hug those two men. They laughed and slapped each other’s backs while Merlin stood there, smiling shyly at Arthur’s happiness. Merlin was simultaneously amazed to see other human beings and also felt a bit sick for a reason he couldn't yet describe. It came to him later that it was because he had unconsciously realized that it meant that Arthur was going to leave.  
Sure, Merlin had known that fact since he had _met_ Arthur, but he had pushed the thought to the back of his mind, too euphoric at being with Arthur to care. Now, reality came crashing backl. Arthur had a life back on the continent that he couldn't abandon. And these men were the living proof of that life.  
Fortunately, Merlin managed to keep smiling...and if Arthur had any idea of what he was thinking, he didn't mention it.

Arthur presented them to Merlin as Gwaine and Leon, his long time friends and knights of Camelot.  
“I'm not actually a knight,” Gwaine said to Merlin. “I'm a fool. Which is a damn fine job, if you ask me. Everyone loves me and I don’t have to risk dying while working.”  
Arthur and Leon both frowned, but they changed the subject quickly. They were all curious to know what happened to the other. Arthur seemed so happy and relieved to see them that it warmed Merlin's heart and his strained smile slowly became genuine.

It took a while for each of them to tell their tales. Merlin glanced worryingly at Kilgharrah at the mention of Mordred's name, but Kilgharrah didn't react.  
“There's more you need to know,” Leon said, “but I'm too tired to process everything, and so are you. We should all go to sleep and continue tomorrow.”  
“Well said, Leon.” Gwaine replied.  
Arthur simply nodded tiredly and they all headed to their temporary beds.

Merlin waited for all of them to be asleep before stepping out of his bed and silently sneaking out of cave.  
As he had expected, there was Kilgharrah, staring out at the night sky. Merlin tried to be silent, but he had never been able to sneak out behind Kilgharrah. So he wasn't that surprised when he heard his name being called.  
“Merlin. Come here.”  
Merlin was exhausted, but had too many questions running around in his head to be able to sleep. He knew Kilgharrah, and the way he always spoke in riddles if you didn't ask a direct question, so he asked without hesitation, “Arthur is linked to my destiny, isn't he? My magic reacted to him to first time I saw him, but it didn't at all with Leon and Gwaine.”  
“Oh, young warlock.” Kilgharrah sighed, a sad smile on his face – an expression Merlin had never seen on him before. “Arthur _is_ your destiny. The two of you are linked in ways few people have been linked before, in life and in death.”

Merlin swallowed hard. It wasn't so much to take in as he thought, mostly because deep down, he already knew it; he’d just needed to hear it confirmed by someone else. By the time Merlin’s mind had stopped racing and he was ready to ask more questions, Kilgharrah was gone. Merlin sighed and started climbing the cliff in which the cave was to his usual resting spot, a flat rock not too high right above the entrance.  
He almost fell off it when he heard someone approaching.

“Merlin, it's just me!”  
“Arthur?” Merlin said with a soft voice, eyes widening. “You're not sleeping?”  
“Couldn't.” Arthur shook his head as he sat next to Merlin. “Too many things in my head right now; too much adrenaline.”  
“Me too.” Merlin smiled, and waited.  
“It's just... You know, knowing that Gwaine and Leon survived, it means that maybe my father survived, too, and my step sister. I know it's silly to start hoping now, but it suddenly seems a lot more possible.”  
“I understand. I'm glad that two of your friends are alive, and I hope you can find your family.”  
“Thank you, Merlin.” Arthur said with a sincerity that made Merlin's cheeks flush and his heart beat faster. In the silence of the night, Arthur's voice was softer and it almost made Merlin shiver with pleasure each time Arthur spoke.

Then, Merlin realized that he might have made a mistake and started stammering.  
“Wait, Gwaine and Leon are your friends, right? I mean you said they were knights, but I haven't offended your royal arse by insinuating that you could be friends with someone of lower rank or something, have I? Now that you've got your subjects back you’re not going to punish me, are you? Not that I'd let you, but I'd like a warning if you were going to try.”  
Arthur gawked at Merlin and then a wide grin appeared on his face.  
“Oh Gods, Merlin. What are you _like_? Of course I can be friends with them. And they are my friends. I've known Leon since I was a boy, and we kind of grew up together. And Gwaine arrived in Camelot only a few years ago, but I trust him with my life. And now after this adventure on the island, he can't refuse my offer to become a knight. He's such a waste of talent as a fool! I still don't get why he keeps refusing, especially when it's obvious that he'd like it!”  
Merlin laughed, finally completely relaxed. In the end, even if it was going to hurt when Arthur left, he would have memories like this one to cherish. And there was this destiny thing that Kilgharrah spoke of that gave Merlin hope that they would meet again.  
“Oh yes, right; how foolish of me,” Merlin teased. “You are a prince, of course you have many friends!”  
“More than you can imagine, _Mer_ lin.” Arthur replied, a mocking smile on his lips.  
“Oh come on, let me guess! I'm sure I can imagine it clearly enough. Half of them must be girls waiting for you to make them a princess! Am I right?”  
Merlin immediately regretted his words as the smile fell from Arthur's face.  
“You have no idea...” Arthur muttered.  
“Is there-” Merlin hesitated. “Do you have a princess? Someone you love?”  
Again, Merlin wished he had kept his mouth shut. How could have been so stupid? The conversation had gone from gentle teasing to tense and sad in less than a minute, and the expression on Arthur's face at that moment – complete loneliness and discomfort – was breaking his heart.

“No, there's no one,” Arthur said after a long silence, “unless you count all the princess who have been thrown at me by my father in hope that I would marry one on the spot.”  
“You can't...marry someone you love?” Merlin asked shyly. In his storybook, the princess and the prince always fell in love. But, based on what Arthur had said, it appeared that it was different in reality, since storybooks always made things look better than they really were.  
Arthur laughed bitterly. “Unless I fall in love with a princess from one of the neighbouring kingdoms, no. And it's not important, because I am a prince, Merlin, and I have responsibilities. I must marry someone of my own rank or it wouldn't be acceptable. And for the sake of the kingdom, I must marry someone who can give me a heir. Not everyone can do that.”  
 _A **man** can't do that_ , Merlin heard, and his heart broke again – not for himself but for Arthur. How terrible was it to be denied love? At that moment, Merlin wanted nothing more than to hug Arthur, but he had just been told that it wasn't acceptable. The hint of sadness in Arthur’s voice though made him hope that Arthur wished it was. And for a very short moment, Merlin let himself hope that Arthur wanted to hug him as much as he wanted to hug Arthur.

It was stupid. Merlin knew it. What with the whole Arthur being the first human he had ever met thing and the fact that they knew each other for only a few days... But he couldn't stop the butterflies in his stomach and that need to _touch_ , to learn, to know Arthur in all the ways possible, ways he couldn't even imagine yet. And he couldn't ignore the way his magic _danced_ when he was around Arthur, the way it exploded when Arthur was happy and the way it hid deep in the earth when Arthur was sad. He knew he was powerful; Kilgharrah had told him so many times in his life, but he had never felt as powerful as when he was with Arthur. With Arthur, Merlin felt like he could do ,i >anything.

They stayed silent for a long time: minutes, hours...Merlin didn't know. The rock on which they were sitting was small and they kept brushing against each other. At first, Merlin had tried not to move too much, but now he was leaning into Arthur because it seemed so natural, like it was the only right thing to do, and Arthur wasn't pushing him away.  
They both stared at the sky, at the first glimmers of sunrise. Carefully, Merlin rested his head on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur's only reaction was to drop the tension in his shoulder and to lay his cheek against Merlin’s hair.  
And while they stayed like that, Merlin couldn't help but smile. In those stolen moments, everything was perfect.

It couldn't last of course, and at that moment when the sky is light but the night still lingered around the edges, they moved. Their movements were slow, precise, as if they were trying to make the moment last longer, and it was why they were still so close, their arms and their tights touching, the sides of their heads brushing against each other.  
The silence had been so long Merlin decided it was time to say something and it was why he had his mouth slightly open when he turned his head to speak to Arthur. Only, he hadn't expected Arthur to do the same thing and now their faces were only an inch apart, so close that Merlin could feel Arthur's breath on his skin.  
Why hadn't he realized how blue Arthur's eyes were, or how soft his lips looked? Merlin felt like a ball of want and need had just exploded inside him and he was frozen with the realization of how much he felt for Arthur.  
Arthur wasn't blinking, and in the morning light Merlin could see him blushing. For a second, it was like time stopped – or maybe time really _had_ stopped, Merlin had already made that happen on occasion. Then, there was a loud sound coming from the forest – probably a seagull – and the second, way more intense moment was broken.  
“We- we should go get some sleep.” Arthur whispered, his voice strangely hoarse.

They climbed down one after the other and once they were both at the entrance of the cave, Merlin took a deep breath and found the strength to ask the one question that had been on his mind for most of the night.  
“When do you think you will be leaving?”  
“Oh.” Arthur seemed genuinely surprised at the question. “Hmm, well, in two or three days, I think. I want to stay and look for my father, but we can't leave Camelot too long without a king.”  
“Okay.” Merlin tried to smile, but despite everything that he had learnt in the past night, a part of him was still heartbroken and unreasonable about Arthur leaving, and now he was too tired to control it.  
“Good night then...” Merlin said and turned around to head to his bed. But before he could go, he was stopped by a strong hand on his shoulder.

“Merlin, listen.” Arthur's voice was firm and his face looked deadly serious. Merlin swallowed hard.  
“W-what?”  
“Would you come to Camelot with me?”  
Merlin's heart skipped a beat. “ _What_?”

 

 

**Arthur**

“Would you come to Camelot with me?”  
“ _What_?”  
Arthur sighed. It was becoming a bad habit, but apparently it was one of the numerous effects Merlin had on him.  
“I know it'll be difficult for you, since you’ve never left the island before, but if you'd like, you could come. The anti-magic laws that could be a problem at first, but those are going to change...whether my father is still alive or not.” Arthur paused. He hadn't thought this through. It was more complicated than it first seemed... “I don't know how yet, and it's going to take time. And you’d have to leave your home... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked.”  
“No, no! It's fine! I'm just... surprised.” Merlin replied.  
Arthur could feel himself blushing. He knew it was a stupid, dangerous thing to do, and to ask that of Merlin... The island was his home, and if he left, Arthur couldn't promise that he would be able to come back. He couldn't take Kilgharrah with them either, because as much as they could probably hide Merlin powers, Kilgharrah had ‘sorcerer’ written in big red letters all over himself. Plus, Arthur didn't trust him.  
Yet, he had asked, his mouth speaking the words to Merlin before his brain could catch up. If Merlin said yes... If he said yes, the future that Arthur had always envisioned for himself was going to be very different than what he had first thought, and not in a bad way.

“I'd like to,” Merlin said, voice soft and a bit shaky. “If you're sure you want me to come...”  
“Merlin. If I didn't want you to come, I wouldn't have asked.” Arthur replied, firmer than he wanted to sound. He was tense and not as in control of himself as he would like. It was like when he was sixteen and had to ask princess Elena to dance with him. It hadn't gone well.  
“Really?” Merlin asked, his eyes shining and a huge grin appearing on his face. He looked like a little kid on his birthday and it was absolutely adorable. His eyes were shining golden with excitement. Literally shining golden.  
“We'll have to teach you how to hide your magic better though, or you won't survive a day in Camelot.” He sighed, trying to hide the laugher that was building inside of him.  
“Hey!” Merlin said churlishly with an exaggerated pout. “I'm offended. I can lie very well!”  
Arthur laughed openly then. “Oh no, believe me Merlin, you are a _terrible_ liar! I'm pretty sure you haven't told a proper lie in your life.”  
“And how would you know that?” Merlin snapped.  
“I just have to take a look at you; it's written all over your face.” Arthur snapped back.  
“You are a prat, you know that, right? And that isn't a lie, it's a fact. You, Arthur, are a royal prat.”  
Arthur immediately straightened up and did his best to look his most arrogant before replying.  
“You can't talk like that to royalty, Merlin.”  
“Sure I can!” Merlin said, still smiling, obviously proud of himself. “Who do you think I am to treat me like that? Your servant?”  
Arthur's eyes widened.

“Oh no. No, no, no! No way!” Merlin yelped. The smile was gone from his face and he looked completely terrified.  
“Shut up, Merlin! I'm thinking.”  
Arthur didn't know if he liked the idea so much because it would actually be a safe cover for Merlin, or because it would mean that Merlin would always be close to him. It was probably a bit of both. Really, both were good.  
“I am not going to be your servant!” Merlin complained with a whine.  
But Arthur wasn't listening, he had already decided. This was _perfect_.  
“It's perfect, Merlin,” he said out loud. “Back in Camelot, it will give you the perfect excuse to be around me so that I can make sure you can't do anything stupid, and considering, well...your rank, you should feel honoured to be awarded such a position. Not just anyone is allowed to be my personal servant.”  
“You sound way too enthusiastic about all of this,” Merlin said petulantly, pouting again. “You're going to make me work for _real_ , aren't you?”  
“Of course.” Arthur replied proudly.  
“Don't smile like that!” Merlin yelled. “I haven't agreed to do it yet!”  
“Too late,” Arthur said and his smile grew wider and wider.

Arthur felt so light hearted, so euphoric, and so tired that he didn't know where he found the self-control not to hug and kiss Merlin right there and then. Thankfully he didn't, and therefore didn't embarrass himself even more by acting like a complete _girl_. He simply patted Merlin on the shoulder...and if he allowed his finger to linger in the curve of Merlin's neck a little bit, no one was there to notice, right?  
The last intelligent part of Arthur’s mind finally reminded him that it was already morning and that they had a long day ahead of them, so he concluded the conversation. “It's all set, then! I can sleep with a lighter burden on my mind, now.”  
Merlin grumbled something unintelligible that Arthur didn't try to make him repeat.  
“Come on, Merlin; off to sleep!”  
Merlin grumbled again, and this time Arthur heard a few words. He tried to hide his smile when he replied. It wasn't easy; it was like the damn thing was stuck on his face forever! “What was that Merlin? Was it ‘Yes, of course, Arthur,’ Hmm?”  
“No,” Merlin responded. “It was, ‘What a royal prat!’”  
Arthur gave Merlin a light punch on the shoulder and they both ran off to their beds, trying to quiet their chuckling so as to not wake up the others.  
Arthur still had a smile plastered on his face when he finally closed his eyes and fell asleep.

 

 

**Morgana**

There was a aroma coming from the cave that they hadn't been able to smell before being almost at the entrance. Morgana knew that smell but hadn't expected to find it _here_ ; that sweet, warm, salty smell that could only come from roasted meat.  
“Do you--” she whispered.  
Gwen,  who had been standing right next to her, nodded before Morgana could finish the sentence.  
There was someone in this cave, and they didn't know whether or not that person was dangerous. If they were unlucky, there would be several someones and they would _all_ be dangerous.

Despite Morgana's sword and fight training, she was tired, hadn't eaten or drank enough, and she didn't have a proper weapon or armour. Even with Gwen, who also knew how to fight – because when you live in the poorest part of town or in small villages, young boys and girls both had to fight to survive – they had little chance of survival if they were attacked.  
Still, they had to take that risk. There was also the small possibility that it would all end well.

As they crept closer, moving as silently as they could, they heard voices and laughter. Morgana swallowed hard. It wasn't… It couldn’t be…  
“Arthur?”  
Morgana didn’t realize she had said it out loud, but the moment his name crossed her lips, there were footsteps thundering toward them. Before she could react or prepare to be attacked, there was Arthur, standing right in front of them.  
Her mouth fell open in surprise.  
“Morgana!” Arthur breathed, looking as surprised as she was, but smiling widely. “And Guinevere! You're alive!”  
In a blink, he was hugging Morgana tightly, so tight that it almost hurt. Slowly, Morgana moved her arms to lace them around Arthur's torso, digging her fingers into his shirt.  
He was _alive_!

Arthur was alive! She had found him and he was alive and well. She held him, touched him to make sure that he was real...not just another hallucination, not just the beginning of another nightmare.  
“Arthur...” she sobbed against his shoulder.  
Morgana had always prided herself in her self-control and the fact that she wasn't more emotional than Arthur. She had always been careful not to cry in front of him, but at that moment, all she could only think about how her little brother--her prince--was alive.  
“Morgana, you're getting my shirt wet.”  
“I don't care!” she said, half-sobbing, half-laughing. “I thought you were dead! I think you can deal with a wet shirt!”  
“I thought _you_ were dead.” Arthur said, finally pushing himself away from her. He didn't hug Guinevere – he wasn't close enough to her for that to be appropriate – but they smiled happily at each other.

Arthur opened his mouth to say something else before he was cut off by another familiar voice coming from behind him. “Arthur, what is it?”  
Leon and Gwaine appeared behind Arthur’s shoulder.  
“Morgana! Gwen!” Gwaine yelled, obviously restraining himself from jumping on them and crushing them with happiness. Leon was, as usual, polite – at least polite when compared to Gwaine.  
Then, another _unfamiliar_ voice called Arthur’s name and a tall, skinny man with dark hair and bright eyes appeared at his side.

For about a half second, Morgana’s hackles were raised and her guard went up. She didn't know this man and her first instinct was not to trust him, but as she saw how he walked into Arthur's space, how Arthur welcomed him, how he leaned against him, how Arthur smiled at him when he told him that this was his sister and her friend and that they were alive... She immediately relaxed. Whoever this man was, Arthur obviously trusted him, so Morgana would try to do the same.

“So, Merlin, right?” Morgana said softly.  
He hadn't said a word for the hours it had taken for her, Gwen, Leon, Gwaine and Arthur to explain what happened to each other. They had eaten and Morgana finally felt a little bit more like her old self.  
“Thank you for saving my brother. I don't know what would have happened to him if he had been alone. Surely he would have done something foolish, as usual.” She glanced at Arthur who gave her a disapproving look.

Arthur had explained quickly that Merlin had grown up on the island and that they were the first humans he had ever met, which made the looks that the man had been giving her and Gwen more understandable. She wasn't going to say it out loud because it would make her sound pretentious and Arthur would never let her hear the end of it...but she thought that Merlin was going to be quite disappointed if he ever came to Camelot with Gwen and her as the basis for what women looked like, since they were obviously both beauties of different kind. (Morgana knew how she looked and the power it had on some people. And Gwen was just wonderful in everything, but that she wouldn’t say either... At least not with other people around. She and Gwen had been careful not to mention the kisses when they had told their story. Not that either of them where ashamed of their relationship, but it was going to be complicated, what with Morgana being a noble and both of them being women. So it was better left out for now as they had more worrying things to think about.)  
Although, from the looks she’d seen Merlin give Arthur – with sparkly eyes and everything – she doubted that the lack of comely lasses in Camelot was going to be a real problem.

Of course, Morgana knew of Arthur's true interests. They had never spoken of it, but she had guessed early on and, even if she understood how it was considered reprehensible, she knew there was nothing to do about it.  And if there was one thing she couldn't blame Arthur for, it was for loving and desiring who he wanted. After all, she was in the same kind of situation herself. Not that she thought about the consequences too much at the moment. She and Gwen hadn't really talked about it yet and she wanted to wait until they were safely back in Camelot to do that.  
Fighting for survival on a mysterious island wasn't the best situation to realize and accept that she was in lo-- had some sort of feelings for her maid.

“No, it wasn't me; it was Kilgharrah, I just... I was just there,” Merlin said sheepishly with a blush, and dear Gods wasn't he adorable?  
“Really? You've all mentioned that name quite a few times, but I'm still not getting who he is. Care to enlighten me?”  
“He's the master of the island,” Arthur said before Merlin could open his mouth. “And he's a sorcerer.”  
Morgana blinked. She had kind of expected Kilgharrah to have magic, but she hadn't expected Arthur to talk about it so casually. The tone of his voice was nothing but normal and he didn't seemed bothered at all by that fact.  
“And he saved you?” She asked, trying to sound unaffected.  
“He captured me and made me work for him. Sure, he fed me and gave me shelter, but that didn't stop him from being a total jerk. And now that we're talking about him, where is he?”  
Merlin shook his head and Gwaine and Leon sighed.  
“We saw him last before we fell asleep. Haven’t seen or heard from him since,” Leon said.  
“But he was nice with us,” Gwaine added. “I mean, after he sent his evil hounds from hell on us, that is. His healing spells were quite impressive. I was bleeding to death, and after a few hours I only have a small scar left!”  
“Yes Gwaine,” Gwen sighed, “You already told us that. Twice.”  
“Oh silly me!” Gwaine laughed, and Gwen raised an eyebrow in disapproval.  
“Well, wherever he went, I'm not going to wait for him,” Arthur said firmly. “I have to look for my father.”

It was like something had exploded inside Morgana's head. She gaped and struggled to breathe.  
Immediately Gwen was at her side, and then everyone gathered around her, asking her what was wrong. “Arthur, your father...” she gasped. “Agravaine...”  
“What, what is going on?” Arthur asked hurriedly.  
“Give her some space!” A strong voice called, and it was only once everyone had stepped away from her that Morgana realized that it had been Merlin.  
“Here.” He gave her a glass of water that she drank quickly before she pulled herself together.  
“Arthur, you have to listen to me. Agravaine is going to kill your father.”  
“How do you know that? You know that they are alive?” Arthur asked, looking confused.  
“It's... complicated.”  
Gwen was back at her side, one reassuring hand on her arm. Her smile warmed Morgana's heart.  
She took a deep breath, opened her mouth...and hesitated. How could she admit to Arthur that she had conspired against his father? That she was a monster?  
 _It's fine, Morgana, you can tell him._  
She blinked. She looked at Merlin, because it was his voice she had heard, but his mouth was shut and no one else was reacting.  
 _He isn't his father. He loves you and he won't hurt you._  
 _How do you know that_ , she thought at Merlin, and she almost jumped on her feet when she heard an answer.  
 _Because he didn't hurt me._

She breathed deeply, and started again. “I dreamed it.”  
“What?” Arthur said. “Morgana, are you wasting my t-”  
“No, Arthur, listen,” Morgana insisted. “It wasn't a normal dream. It's not the first time I’ve had one and I know it was real.”  
“How do you _know_ \--”  
“Arthur! Just _listen_!”  
Arthur opened and closed his mouth several times, obviously wanting to reply with something nasty, but the expression on Morgana's face seemed to calm him down.  
“I'm... I dream of the future,” Morgana explained, feeling her throat tightening as she spoke. Even with the knowledge that neither Gwen, Arthur and his knights, or Merlin where going to hurt or judge her, it was still hard to say it out loud when she had spent so many years hiding it as best as she could. Telling so many people made it feel a lot more real.  
There was a long silence and she felt sweat rolling down her back.

“Your nightmares?” Arthur simply asked, sounding way too calm.  
“Yes,” she replied.  
Arthur seemed to be in deep thought for a minute and then said quietly,”You have magic.” It wasn't a question.  
“Yes,” Morgana replied again, swallowing hard, her throat going dryer by the second. There was another long silence.  
“Or at least I think so,” Morgana continued. “I don't know... I don't know anything. It started when I was a kid, I couldn't – still can't control it. Sometimes I see things that don't make sense. Past, present, future... If I don't act, it always happens.”  
She was almost sobbing then, feeling all the pain, all the loneliness she had buried inside her exploding, replacing the anger that she had used as an armour.  
“Morgana,” Arthur said firmly but without anger. “It's fine. It's a bit of a shock for me, but I'll get over it. Your secret is safe with me. I would never hurt you and I promise that I will protect you. I think everyone here can promise that.”

They all nodded and Morgana tried to smile, but she was shaking and holding back tears.  
“Take some time to rest,” Arthur said, smiling softly. “We'll talk about my father and Agravaine once you're better.” He moved toward her and put a hand on her shoulder. “We'll talk more about the rest once we're safely back in Camelot. We'll protect you, I promise.”  
She smiled, brushing a wild tear off her face as Gwen helped her get up and Merlin guided them toward a place where they could sleep in peace for a few hours.  
She didn't know if it was all going to be as fine as Arthur had said, but for the moment, she was going to let herself believe it would.

 

 

**Agravaine**

The demons never left him, never weakened, but neither did Agravaine. He didn't know for how long he had been fighting them, whilst running and running to nowhere. The sky was eternally dark and cloudy in a way that made it impossible to distinguish night from day. He felt exhausted, but he wasn't going to back down, oh no. He would win against those harpies, and he would get back to Camelot safely, because it was his destiny to have power and he hadn't had it yet.

When his sister Ygraine had married Uther, Argravaine had gotten an important title and more land, but it hadn’t been enough for his actions to have any impact on the whole kingdom. He knew that he could be a better, fairer ruler than Uther. Uther was a cold hearted monster, and that was before he’d started his stupid war on magic. Agravaine never understood what Ygraine had seen in him, but as long as his sister was happy, the idea of harming Uther hadn't crossed his mind. But what Uther had done to Ygraine was _unforgivable_. If Agravaine had been a warrior, he would have defied Uther in a sword fight, but his ways had always been much more discreet and malicious...and much more effective.

The harpies never really attacked. They could certainly kill him whenever they wanted, but they seemed to enjoy making him suffer. Agravaine still didn't undertsand why they were against him. They were spirits, made of pure magic, and he hadn't been anything but an ally of magic all his life. Really, the sensible thing to do would be to help him kill Uther, not kill _him_.

Agravaine was so exhausted that he didn't immediately notice that the number of harpies above him had seriously diminished. He blinked several times, stopping still. Slowly, all the harpies turned into smoke and several minutes later, the dark clouds that had covered the sky had disappeared, too.  
“Aha!” Agravaine yelled at the sky. “That's it! You saw that you couldn't defeat me so you left! Ahahahahahah!”  
He let his weapon fall to the ground and sighed with relief. He was ready to sit down on the cold hard rock and sleep right there when a voice called from behind him. _Uther_.  
“Agravaine! You are alive!”  
“You too, Sire! I'm so glad!” He smiled, doing his best to hide his disappointment.  
“Sire!” Two voices called together, and Agravaine saw the two knights that had accompanied them running toward Uther.

The knights didn't let Uther the time to blink before they were checking that he wasn't hurt and offering him food and water. Once Uther had accepted it, one of them, the taller one, moved toward Agravaine.  
“My Lord,” he said, holding out food to Agravaine.  
It was only when he’d taken the first bite that Agravaine realized how hungry he was.  
“How long has it been since those monsters first attacked us?” He asked. The knight raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.  
“A day and a night.”  
Agravaine's eyes widened. That explained why he was so tired. He didn't speak more to the knight. It was obvious that neither he nor his companion had any idea of what happened with the harpies and it would be a waste of time to explain. The most urgent thing, once he had regained his strength, was to go on with his plan before something else happened to stop him.

Unfortunately for Agravaine, it seemed like the odds were never in his favour on the island, which was why it wasn't so surprising that they were interrupted in the middle of their meal by a hooded figure.  
The figure was dark and imposing, hidden in a shadow that came from nowhere in particular. Agravaine could feel the power emanating from him.  
The sky that had finally cleared became dark and cloudy again, with thunder ready to explode.  
Uther, Agravaine and the knights were all frozen, either by fear or by the figure's powers, they couldn't know.  
Pure, raw magic came from it, more present as it walked toward them, but still unrecognisable. Agravaine wanted to speak, to scream, to call it, maybe try to bargain with it, but his mouth wouldn't open and he felt himself starting to shake. Suddenly, the figure moved its arm and the two knights abruptly fell on the ground. Agravaine gasped in surprise. He glanced at the motionless knights, unable to tell if they were dead or alive – not that he cared.

“Uther Pendragon,” the figure said, its voice echoing all around them. It was masculine and Agravaine immediately felt like he knew it. He had already heard it before, he was certain of it. And from the expression on Uther's face, the king was thinking the same thing.

The figure started to slowly take off its hood. Agravaine held his breath, waiting to see who it was and…  
“You!” Agravaine yelped. “You're alive!”  
But the man wasn't listening to him. His eyes were fixed on Uther.  
“Kilgharrah.” Uther gasped. Kilgharrah smiled.  
When Kilgharrah spoke again, his voice was loud and terrifying. “Uther Pendragon, king of Camelot. Years ago, you forced me into exile on this island. During all the time since, you persecuted and killed my brothers and sisters for no other reason than your personal hatred and fear. A man such as you should have known that such trespasses would not go unpunished.”  
Uther started shaking visibly. Kilgharrah didn't pay it any attention and continued, this time turning to face Agravaine. Agravaine felt his throat going dry and swallowed hard.

“Agravaine Dubois. Your quest for power has lead you to betray the ones who loved and cared for you. Your heart has become cold and withered. There is nothing left to save, for there is only disdain and hate. You use magic as an excuse for your actions. Instead of helping it as you insist you do, your actions only tarnish its image more. You both shall suffer and die today.”

Agravaine was sweating profusely. He wasn't frozen anymore but still didn't dare to move. He didn't know what he was waiting for – an escape, maybe. Kilgharrah had been the most powerful sorcerer in Camelot in his time. There was no defeating him. Agravaine, as much as Uther, knew that the only reason they‘d managed to capture him when the war started was because they’d had an entire army behind them. An army for one man. Here, alone on the island with him, their chances of survival were nonexistent. But that didn't mean that he wasn't going to fight for his life until his last breath!  
The first one to move was Uther. He fell to the ground, still shaking, and when he spoke his voice was strangled with pain. “It was you... Everything was you. You took my son! Killing me would be a mercy, for the pain I feel is beyond everything.”

Agravaine took this as a signal to start running. Kilgharrah was busy with Uther, hopefully by the time he realized that Agravaine is gone, Agravaine would be too far away. As he passed next to the knights' bodies, he grabbed a sword. He wouldn't go down without a fight. He knew that Kilgharrah would find him on the island but if he was given enough time, Agravaine was confident that he could make a plan that would bring Kilgharrah to his side. He just needed to stay alive a bit longer.

He heard Uther sobbing and couldn't help but laugh out loud at how pathetic he was. Uther had never had the shoulders for being king. He was so weak! He hid his weaknesses behind his army and his laws but in the end he was a poor, poor man. Agravaine deserved to rule as much as him, even if it was in the shadows – no, ruling behind the throne was even better, it was what Agravaine was the best at! And he could have Kilgharrah with him! Make him Court Sorcerer like he once was, give him back his power. Certainly Kilgharrah couldn't refuse that. The only thing in their way was Uther.  
Poor, poor Uther who was crying like a child, helpless and desperate. He would be so easy to kill, oh yes.

Agravaine glanced at his sword. He had stopped running and his eyes kept going from Uther to the blade. He smiled widely. He could do it right now. Nothing would stop him, Uther was useless, he wouldn't fight back. And Agravaine would have the pleasure of seeing Uther's surprise and horrified face. Yes, it was perfect!  
He walked toward Uther, brandishing the sword, laughing out loud. Everything was perfect; he was going to get exactly what he wanted, what he _deserved_!  
The world was red and dark on the corners, the colours of power! Of victory! Agravaine laughed louder and louder, the sounds coming from deep inside him, the joy of finally realizing his goal was like fireworks in his belly. He was going to spill Pendragon's blood and it was going to be beautiful.

“Uther!” he called, his voice distorted by laughter.  
Uther blinked at him, eyes widening in surprise as the sword pierced his chest. He coughed up blood.  
Agravaine was laughing and laughing, his eyes on Uther and admiring his work. No one could stop him now! Not even Kilgharrah!  
For half a second, he realized that Kilgharrah wasn't around anymore, but he was too excited to care. Kilgharrah wasn't important; only Uther was and Uther was dying in front of him! What a delicious sight!

He didn't hear the footsteps immediately as they were covered by his laughter, but soon there was a silhouette in his field of view, and a voice that called out desperately, “Father!”  
 _Arthur!_

 

 

**Merlin**

They had a plan. It was simple, easy, and was made to avoid any... casualty. So of course, it all went to hell as soon as they stepped out of the forest. The first thing Merlin saw was the blood. Apparently, it was also what Arthur saw because he started running towards the two men. From the way he screamed “Father!”, Merlin guessed that his father was the bleeding man.  
Gods, there was so much blood…  
Merlin followed Arthur, readying his magic to attack. He saw Arthur draw his sword and stop in front of the other man, the one holding the bloody sword. He was laughing. The maniacal sound sent shivers down Merlin's spine.  
“Uncle Agravaine,” Arthur said, his voice low and rough with anguish.  
The man – Agravaine – kept laughing.

Merlin heard Gwaine and Leon arrive behind them. They were both holding swords and surveying the scene, wide eyed. Suddenly, Gwaine started running toward one of the bodies on the ground, immediately followed by Leon.  
“Percival and Lance?” Arthur asked the knights sternly, not taking his eyes off Agravaine for one second.  
“Just knocked out!” Leon called back.  
Merlin sighed with relief. He didn't know them, but he didn't want anyone to die, even moreso if they were Arthur's friends.  
“Perce, Perce come on! Wake up!” Gwaine was saying as he held one of the unconscious knight and gave a light tap to his face. “Perce!”  
Merlin almost jumped when Gwaine slapped the man, but he was too tense to actually move. He heard coughing and Gwaine's obvious relief, so he drew his attention back to Arthur.

Agravaine was still laughing, blocking the way to Arthur's father, who was still bleeding out on the rocks.  
Merlin could feel his magic bubbling up inside of him, ready to burst at any moment. Seeing Arthur so angry and hurt like that made him angry, but it was Arthur's business and he wasn't going to interfere now, not when his actions could make the situation even more dangerous for Arthur.  
“Why?” Arthur asked, and this simple word seemed to be the signal Agravaine was waiting for because he jumped on Arthur, sword first.

Arthur had told Merlin that he was a great fighter, but Merlin hadn't realized how much truth there was to it until he saw Arthur fight. The fight was brutal. Agravaine was screaming, throwing himself at Arthur with all his strength, while for Arthur, it appeared to be child’s play. It looked on the surface as if Agravaine had no chance to win the fight, but Merlin could see that Arthur’s grief was making him restless and impulsive. He’d almost lost his balance twice already, leaving an opening for Agravaine. Thankfully, Agravaine was too blinded by madness to see it, but it would only take one small mistake for Arthur to be hurt and Merlin just couldn't allow that.

The clanging of swords clashing filled the air so loudly that Merlin almost didn't hear the death rattle coming from Arthur's father. He turned to see what was going on and from the corner of his eys, he saw Arthur do the exact same thing, thus turning his attention away from Agravaine for a split second. It was the mistake Agravaine had been waiting for and he ran toward Arthur, sword raised for the kill.

Merlin saw everything as if time had slowed down. Agravaine's sword was going to hit Arthur in the chest. Arthur would have just enough time to move for the blow to miss his heart, but not his shoulder. The blade was already touching his flesh...  
Merlin screamed and his magic exploded.

The wave of power threw everyone several feet away from where they’d been. Agravaine let go of his sword and tried to get up, but Merlin forced him to stay on the ground.  
“Aha! You- you are a sorcerer!” Agravaine gasped, a mad smile on his lips. “Listen! I am your ally! I can give you power! Money!”  
Merlin didn't reply. Instead, Arthur spoke for him, asking the exact question he had on his mind.  
“Why did you kill my father?” His voice was calm, cold, but Arthur was shaking.  
Agravaine laughed again, sounding more mad with each breath.  
“He doesn't deserve to be king!” He screamed.  
“Then you don't deserve to be alive!” Arthur screamed back and ran to him.  
“No!” Merlin yelled and threw Arthur back with another wave of magic. He heard Arthur fall on the ground, knocked out.

No, Arthur couldn't do that. His father was dying, or maybe he was already dead. This wasn't the moment for Arthur to be responsible for the death of another member of his family, no matter how mad he was. If Merlin could do one thing for Arthur, it was this.  
He didn't like it, but there was something in him that made him walk toward Agravaine. His magic was burning, angry, raw, and oh so powerful. Merlin could barely see over the golden haze of his own power but he could feel _everything_. Every breath, every heartbeat – especially Arthur's. Everything on the island was communing with him, giving him power. He had never let himself go like this before, never had a reason to do so, but for Arthur he would do anything. Arthur was his new everything and he wasn't going to let anyone hurt him more than they already had.

The only thing he could see clearly were Agravaine's terrified eyes, but he didn't care. Agravaine was lost to the land of madness already. His heart was too dark now, there was nothing left to save.  
Merlin raised his hand toward Agravaine and slowly twisted it. There was a scream, followed by the sound of a heartbeat slowing, stuttering. Agravaine felt to the ground. He gasped, coughed hard, and blood spilled from his mouth onto the ground. Merlin saw his eyes reflected in Agravaine’s, eyes that were staring back at him, golden and powerful and deadly. They would be the last thing Agravaine ever saw. Merlin twisted his hand again and Agravaine's just heart _stopped_.  
It was over. Arthur was safe.

He let himself fall to the ground for a moment, the power still washing off of him, retreating back into the earth.  
“Arthur!” Merlin called with a voice that didn't sound like his own, his eyes searching wildly for the other man.  
Arthur was still lying on the ground, motionless. Merlin jumped to his feet and ran to him, already looking for Arthur's heartbeat. He could still hear everything even if he wasn't as blinded by power as before, his anger leaving him when he... When he... When Agravaine died.

“Arthur,” he called again as he knelt next to him. He passed his hand under Arthur's nose and let out a relieved sigh when  he felt breath on his skin. Arthur was alive.  
“Merlin?” Arthur said, voice weak but very much real.  
“Arthur, are you hurt? Are you all right?” Merlin voice belied his panic.  
“Merlin, calm down. I'm fine.” Arthur replied, grinding his teeth as he tried to sit properly. “I'm aching everywhere, but other than that I'm fine. What happened?”  
“I--” Merlin started. He still couldn't say it, couldn't accept that he had killed a man. But it had happened.  
“Your uncle is dead,” he said instead. They didn't have any time to lose with details anyway, Arthur needed to be healed properly and...

Merlin felt it like a sting in his stomach, a dark dot in the golden immensity of his magic. He jumped to his feet, feeling the darkness growing, getting closer and closer with each second that passed.  
“Merlin, what is going on?” Arthur asked. He was standing up, too, a bit wobbly on his legs but other than that, he was fine.  
“Arthur, your father...” Merlin said, not even looking at Arthur. There was something coming their way, something powerful and dangerous. Merlin's word seemed to throw Arthur back into reality and he immediately bolted toward his father. He wasn't dead yet; Merlin could still feel a small spark of life in him...but he wasn't going to survive for long. At least Arthur could have a last word with him before it was too late.

He heard the knights rushing toward Arthur and his father, all of them up and awake now. From deep in the forest, in the cave, he heard Morgana and Gwen sleeping peacefully – they had both wanted to come with them but they were too exhausted to even walk just yet, so Morgana had sadly agreed to stay in the cave – and from further away he could feel the spirits of the island going on with their business, not caring at all about what happened in the mortal world. And there, right there in front of him, he could feel the source of the dark power.

He opened the eyes he hadn't realized he had closed and found himself facing Mordred. The child was like Merlin had always seen him, small and pale with hair as dark as his, wearing an old stained cape. The only different thing was his eyes, they were burning a bright golden, exactly like Merlin’s. When Merlin closed his eyes to concentrate, all the magic he that had flown from him after the last battle came surging back. He opened his eyes and again, he was seeing everything through the shroud of his magic. The world was bright and colourful, except around Mordred. It was like there was a cloud ready to explode with thunder and lightning all over him, and it grew bigger and bigger like the spot in Merlin's stomach. It was attacking Merlin's magic and it hurt.

“Mordred!” He called, not sure if he was actually speaking or if it was something else, his thoughts maybe. “Stop! I'm not your enemy! I don't want to harm you!”  
“Emrys!” Mordred's voice resonated everywhere, full of pain and rage. “You betrayed me! You stole my island and killed my mother and now you're allying yourself with an enemy of magic! How could you?”  
“No, Mordred, listen to me, I never meant to hurt you, or anyone. It wasn't...”

“It all happened because of you!” Mordred yelled so loudly that Merlin had to put his hands to his ears. He was fighting against the assault of Mordred's magic and it hurt more than anything he had ever felt before. He had no idea Mordred was so powerful or even that he resented him so much. After all, he had never really spoken to the boy, since Kilgharrah had always been careful not to let them close to each other. Mordred had always been a wild element in his life, the one thing he knew nothing about on an island where everything was like a part of himself. He had always hoped that he'd get to know the child one day, but apparently that wasn't going to happen. Whatever happened to Mordred that Merlin didn't know, it had pushed him to direct his anger at Merlin.

“I'm going to kill you all!” Mordred screamed and this time his voice was so loud that it made Merlin stagger and fall to his knees.  
 _Arthur_ , Merlin thought and suddenly everything changed. He didn't want to hurt Mordred, but like Agravaine, if he touched Arthur or any of his friends, Merlin would do what was necessary.

Mordred didn't speak the spells, exactly like Merlin used to do when he was younger, but Merlin still recognized it instantly. He saw the flames growing, moving toward Arthur who was holding his father's almost lifeless body. Merlin tried to stop the fire, but Mordred was attacking him and small bloody cuts were starting to appear all over his body.

“Mordred!” another voice called, and there was a tiny moment where both Merlin and Mordred halted their magic in surprise. It was Gwaine.  
“I knew you weren't as innocent as you looked. You planned on using us to defeat Kilgharrah, knowing very well that we didn't have any chance to defeat him. You wanted to use us as a distraction. You lied to us! You might be just a child, but that doesn't excuse you for being stupid and cruel.” Gwaine continued, a proud smile on his face. He was terrified, it was obvious, but this, _this1_ what was Arthur and Leon had been talking about when they said Gwaine had everything it took to be a knight. He couldn't just stand here and do nothing, not when his friends were going to be killed.

Mordred laughed, and it sounded nothing like the voice of a child. He turned to face Gwaine. The smile disappeared from his face abruptly and he said with a cold, harsh voice : “I should have killed you earlier.”  
Merlin saw Mordred raise his hand and before he could react, Mordred was throwing his magic at Gwaine.  
“No!” Merlin screamed, reaching for Gwaine with his magic, already expecting to feel the lifeless body. Except Gwaine wasn't lifeless. No, he was very much alive, completely unharmed. And in front of him, shielding him, there was a glowing white shape.

Merlin blinked several times and slowly, the shape took the form of a woman. She was beautiful, with darker hair and light eyes, a long dress floating around her, changing into smoke at the edges. She was white and silver and blue, like the sea after the rain, and she was glowing softly. Everything about her was beautiful in a way nothing mortal was. Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at her. It wasn’t everyday that such a powerful spirit showed itself to humans.

It was Mordred who broke the sudden silence. “Who are you?” he yelled, still pushing his magic at her with no effect.  
“I am the Lady of the Island,” the spirit spoke, her voice delicate, melodic and soothing. “I was born in the lake and made this place my home. But I was enslaved by your mother, Mordred, and am only free from my pain now thanks to the sorcerer Kilgharrah. Now, it is my mission to protect those men.”  
“I will destroy you!” Mordred screamed. Tears were rolling down his cheeks now. He was a bubble of rage and power ready to explode. Merlin had taken the time that Mordred was distracted by the spirit to stand up and push Mordred's magic away from him, and most importantly, away from Arthur. The flames he had conjured had almost died out now, but it didn't mean that it was over. The angrier Mordred was, the more dangerous he was.  
“No mortal can harm me,” the spirit said. “Stop, Mordred, before it is too late.”  
“LIAR!” Mordred screamed and the magic broke out of him in a ferocious wave, turning everything into flames, advancing toward Arthur and the others at an alarming speed. Merlin concentrated and let his own magic escape him in controlled bursts, but to stop such raw power, Merling knew he’d have to let go completely, and that meant that he would have no control over what would happen to Mordred. He didn't want to kill him; he was just a scared, confused child with too much power for his own good.

Merlin struggled to stop the flames, managing at first but he was going to be overwhelmed soon. He was at a loss on what to do. He didn’t want to endanger anyone else with his magic. It seemed like the fight was never going to be over...  
Suddenly, it all stopped. The flame died out in an instant and Merlin found himself facing an unconscious Mordred on the ground and a Gwaine who was smiling proudly, the handle of his sword still over Mordred's head from when he’d bashed him on the head.  
“How...” Merlin started but he wasn't sure what he should ask.  
“Kid didn't watch his behind! Ah!” Gwaine exclaimed. “He'll learn what happens when you mess with the knights of Camelot.”  
“Gwaine, you're still not officially a knight.” Merlin said, a small smile on his lips. His magic was back to normal now, even if he was still a little tense. He exchanged a look with Gwaine and they both rushed to Arthur.

Arthur was still holding his father's body. The king now had his eyes closed and was completely still.  
“Arthur...” Merlin whispered. “I'm sorry.”  
Arthur smiled sadly. He hadn't cried but his eyes were red and wet. “It's all right, Merlin. At least I was able to speak to him before...”  
Merlin sat next to Arthur and put a hand on his shoulder.  
“My father made many mistakes...” Arthur said, stopping to swallow a sob. “But he was my father and he loved me... And I loved him.”  
Merlin tightened his grip on Arthur's shoulder. “Come on Arthur, let's get out of here,” he said softly.

Arthur followed Merlin's movement, getting up, picking his sword up from the ground and then walking toward the treeline. He had grabbed on to Merlin's arm and didn't let go. Behind them, Leon and Gwaine were carrying Uther's body while the other two knights took care of Mordred and Agravaine.  
Before entering the forest, Merlin stopped to put a spell on Mordred so that he wouldn't wake up until they were long gone from the island. They were going to have to bring Agravaine's and Uther's bodies brought back to Camelot, but Leon thought it was better if neither Arthur nor Morgana had to see them like that.

When they got back to the cave, Kilgharrah was still nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a letter on the main desk with Merlin's name scribbled on it in a familiar handwriting.

“ _Emrys,_ ” it said. “ _The ship is waiting near the north-east cliffs. The crew will have to be awakened by magic. I won't ask you to forgive me for anything, but know that I had my reasons and that I don't regret anything I did. There are powers in this world bigger than us, as you witnessed today. And don't think, young warlock, that your destiny realized itself today. It has just begun._ ”

Merlin smiled. It was exactly Kilgharrah's style. The old man never did explain feelings or give clear explanations.  
“Who is Emrys?” Arthur asked, pulling Merlin out of his thoughts.  
“Oh, that's me. It's my Druidic name, apparently. I don't know what it means yet.”  
“Probably something like 'idiot', because it's what you are Merlin: a careless, clumsy idiot who doesn't value his own life.”

They were alone in the room now; everyone else had already gone to sleep. Merlin hadn't taken into account of the time during the events of the day but now it was dark and the room was only brightened by a few candles. Everything was so quiet, so peaceful, like the island itself was getting ready for his departure.  
“Oh yes...Sorry I tried to save your life, Arthur,” Merlin said, laughing.  
“ _Mer_ lin...” Arthur put an hand on Merlin's head on ruffled his hair. “Come on, let's get some rest.”

Merlin followed him silently, a huge grin plastered on his face, and didn't ask any questions when Arthur took off his shirt and slid under the covers of Merlin’s bed, or when he gestured for Merlin to come in and lie next to him. He stayed silent when Arthur laced his arms around Merlin's waist, and he didn't even say anything when Arthur pushed his lips against Merlin’s, all soft and warm and absolutely delicious.  
The sounds he made _then_ weren't exactly intelligible words, but neither Merlin nor Arthur seemed to mind.

\- - -

Merlin couldn't take his eyes off the island as the ship slid into the water away from it. The sun was bright and the sky clear. It was going to be a peaceful journey. The deck was empty except for the deckhands and Merlin.  
He had never had the occasion to see the island from afar like this. It was beautiful, all green and blue, bigger than he thought, yet so small in the immensity of the ocean. He knew that he wasn't going to come back, and somehow, even though he had accepted it, it still hurt.

“Merlin,” a familiar voice called. A warm hand appeared on his arm and Merlin turned his head to see Arthur – wonderful Arthur – smiling at him.  
Arthur dropped a light kiss on Merlin's cheek and took Merlin's hand in his, squeezing it lightly.  
He watched the island disappear behind the horizon with Merlin, staying silent for a little while before he vowed soberly, “It's going to be fine, Merlin. I promise.”  
Merlin smiled and felt his cheeks redden with happiness. “I know,” he agreed softly. “It's going to be – we're going to be more than fine. We're going to be _amazing_.”

 

_The end_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank a lot for reading!  
> I hope you enjoyed the story, and even if you didn't I'd appreciate your feedback. I know that my writing and storytelling have a lot to improve and any comments are very helpful! (also I usually forget some notes from my betas or that kind of stuff so don't hesitate to tell me if you notice anything!)
> 
> Now some links :  
> [The masterpost on Paperlegends on Livejournal](http://paperlegends.livejournal.com/163466.html)  
> [The masterpost on my livejournal](http://puckboum.livejournal.com/15751.html)  
> [And again the art!](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Paperlegends2013/works/949315)


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